Athena

I was at the computer today when Rex came in the room, bent down to the guinea pigs' cage, and said, "One of these guinea pigs appears to be dead."

Indeed, one of them was dead. It was Athena, the golden guinea pig with a cowlick on her forehead. The one that had been known to bite people on occasion.

Maybe it was because I've only sporadically been taking my little blue "happy pills" lately, but I have to admit, I lost it on my drive into work. What bothers me about little Athena's death is that she spent just about her whole life in a cage. And, truth be told, not a very frequently cleaned cage.

I once had a co-worker who told me he didn't keep animals because he didn't believe in it. (Shortly after that, he sold everything he owned and set out to bike across America. He died not a month later crossing a four-lane highway in Ohio.) Anyway, I didn't understand his philosophy at the time, mainly because I'd never really pondered the ethics of animal-keeping.

Recently, though, being the keeper of so many animals, it has occurred to me that each of these beings has just one life, and if I'm in charge of it, I need to "do right" by them. It's a rich source of guilt, and I guess Athena's death struck a mother lode.

The remaining guinea pig, Jewel, will probably benefit from her pal's passing. I'm envisioning an outdoor pen with lots of toys and other guinea pigs, kind of a Maine version of a prairie dog town.

Either that, or I'll just try taking those pills on a more regular basis, and screw the guilt.