RIP Digger (or "OH DEAR GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!")
I don't think I ever got around to mentioning this here last week.
Last Tuesday evening, our guinea pig, Digger, passed away. This wasn't at all unexpected, since she'd been slowly growing an increasingly large tumor on her underside for the last several months. Fortunately, she passed away that evening and not after we went to bed (the fortunate part being that I was able to dispose of the body before rigor mortis set in...ick).
So basically, I put Digger's body in a garbage bag along with the bottom of the cage (dead animals freak me out a little, so I didn't feel like manhandling it), and then wrapped another garbage bag around it and tied the drawstrings. Then I put it out back into the large, sealable garbage can. It probably sounds a little callous to dispose of a pet that way, but burial wasn't an attractive option given the ridiculous nunber of cats roaming the area, and I wasn't going to dig a big enough hole in the yard to keep them out.
Fast forward to Friday, which was the next garbage pick-up day. I get ready for work, I step outside, and there's Digger, ON THE SIDEWALK RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE HOUSE. I still don't understand how it happened, but my best guess is that the bags were wrapped sufficiently tightly around the bottom of the cage for both bags to have ripped and then the weight of the body pulled it through. There was a small trail of wood chips leading out to the street where the truck would be and there were no...er...parts missing that would imply an animal had done it.
So, uh, EWWWWWWWW. I'd have to say that holding a garbage bag open while Alicia tries unsuccessfully to scoop up a three-day-dead guinea pig with a shovel was one of the more surreal moments of my life. Every effort to get the shovel under her caused her to roll.
There's been another garbage collection since then, so I think they got her this time.
Bet you thought this was going to be a sad obituary, didn't you?
Last Tuesday evening, our guinea pig, Digger, passed away. This wasn't at all unexpected, since she'd been slowly growing an increasingly large tumor on her underside for the last several months. Fortunately, she passed away that evening and not after we went to bed (the fortunate part being that I was able to dispose of the body before rigor mortis set in...ick).
So basically, I put Digger's body in a garbage bag along with the bottom of the cage (dead animals freak me out a little, so I didn't feel like manhandling it), and then wrapped another garbage bag around it and tied the drawstrings. Then I put it out back into the large, sealable garbage can. It probably sounds a little callous to dispose of a pet that way, but burial wasn't an attractive option given the ridiculous nunber of cats roaming the area, and I wasn't going to dig a big enough hole in the yard to keep them out.
Fast forward to Friday, which was the next garbage pick-up day. I get ready for work, I step outside, and there's Digger, ON THE SIDEWALK RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE HOUSE. I still don't understand how it happened, but my best guess is that the bags were wrapped sufficiently tightly around the bottom of the cage for both bags to have ripped and then the weight of the body pulled it through. There was a small trail of wood chips leading out to the street where the truck would be and there were no...er...parts missing that would imply an animal had done it.
So, uh, EWWWWWWWW. I'd have to say that holding a garbage bag open while Alicia tries unsuccessfully to scoop up a three-day-dead guinea pig with a shovel was one of the more surreal moments of my life. Every effort to get the shovel under her caused her to roll.
There's been another garbage collection since then, so I think they got her this time.
Bet you thought this was going to be a sad obituary, didn't you?