I remember when I bought Nemo. I was still working at PetSmart and he was a sick baby guinea pig that we had. I gave him medicine and cuddled him and named him "Nemo", and once he was better and ready to sell I decided he was too cute to pass up and bought him for myself.
Nemo survived a lot of crap. He survived an ear infection. He survived moving out of my apartment and back to my parents' house, and then he survived an 800 mile drive to Washington, and then he survived the 800 mile drive back a year later. He was always very energetic, spunky, and feisty.
He stopped eating about a week ago. It was about the same time that I bought him a new type of food (because his usual food was all out), so I thought that maybe he was just being a picky eater, as guinea pigs are known to be, and, a few days later, I found his normal food and gave it to him. He still didn't touch it.
Concerned, I took him to the vet, where he was a feisty as ever. The vet prescribed him some medicine and a special food to feed him through a syringe. So I went home and started dutifully giving him his medicine and his special food mix with the syringe. Last night he still seemed to be doing okay and I thought that maybe he'd make it through whatever this was.
This morning I could feel his ribs, and moving seemed to take him a huge amount of effort. I gave him his medicine, I fed him his food in a syringe, and I gave him some extra cuddles and pats. I put him back in his cage, in his favorite hut, surrounded by hay and treats and spinach and water. The best I could give him. Then I hemmed and hawed over what to do. He needed to see an emergency vet-- that much was certain. But the emergency vet was expensive and I didn't have any money.
Finally, after an hour of thinking about it, I realized what I'd have to do. I'd have to pull all of the money I had in the Visiting Huxley Fund, which I've been saving up since January, and use it to save Nemo's life. It would mean I'd have to postpone visiting Hux for quite some time-- but I had to do it.
I went to the bank website. I pulled all of the money out of my savings account and transferred it to my checking account. Then I called the emergency vet.
It was as I was on the phone with them that Nemo stumbled out of his hut, fell over onto his side, twitched a couple of times... and then stopped moving for good.
I've been crying for the last fortyfive minutes. I did so much and it wasn't enough. I wonder if I somehow did something wrong.
I will miss you, Nemo.