The story began one night after a Girl Scout meeting, when my mom
pulled over at a pet store. My
brothers and I asked, "What are you doing?" She asked me, "You
want a guinea pig, don't you?" To which I replied, "YES!"
So we went in the very trashy pet store and looked at their selection of guinea pigs, which were kept in a glass case (we went back a year or so later, and they were keeping ducks in there O.o). Most of them were diseased or had some ailment. But I saw the one I wanted. A white one, with dark markings. He wasn't long-haired then. I didn't know the trouble I was getting myself into. ^.^ My brothers, jealous, also got their own guinea pigs.
On the way home, we all named our guinea pigs.
M88: "Stimpy." Mum: "But then we'll have to name another one Ren." Everyone: "No we don't!"
N: "Snowflake." Me: But he's a boy! You can't name him Snowflake!" N: "I don't care." (He turned out to be a she later, as we found out when she became pregnant. ^_^;;)
Me: "What do I name mine?" Everyone: suggestions that I can't remember now. Mama: "There's a football player named Bubba. Why don't you name him that?" Me: "Okay! Buba!" (I was in fourth grade, I didn't know how to spell Bubba.)
Buba became my buddy; I did everything with him, even cleaned up his pee. Hey, I kept him out of his cage for loooong periods. I "taught" him math, spelling words, I dressed him up in the Barbie clothes that would fit (only a cape), he and the rest of the guinea pigs played out Dogzilla, we did a lot of things.
Then he wasn't my best buddy, he just became a cuddly pet I had to feed and change the cage. I grew a "guinea garden" (dichondra) just for him. I'd go out and pull the lawn's seed stalks every spring to feed him and laugh at the way he ate it.
When he got bumblefoot one summer and we were going to Yosemite, he came along because we didn't want to trouble Grandma and Grandpa. He needed treatment three times a day. We kept him disguised in a camera case lined with newspaper and woodshavings, complete with pellet bowl. We gave him the water bottle when no one was around. Could Buba have been the first guinea pig to visit Yosemite?
Then that winter, around January 8, 2000, my mom found him in the cage one morning dead. *sigh* I was never the same again. I couldn't remember a time without him. He was even a part of my "About Me" presentation in fourth grade. I'd always hoped he would live to be ten years old, like in the book I Love Guinea Pigs, and I'd take him with me to college, or at least seven years old, which was the age of my mom's childhood guinea pig. But six years was a good long time.
Buba loved me, I guess. ^_^;; When I carried him around he'd lay his head on my shoulder. ^__^ He was the cutest piggie I and Mum have ever seen, and we've seen a lot. He was a white-colored sheltie, with cherry-colored eyes and ears, and a pink nose. His favorite food was string beans. Or maybe cucumber. I forget. :/
