Here piggy, piggy, piggy

Spoiler alert, this story may upset some people (if curiosity got the better of you M. then "hey there!").

So a Friend of Professor Matthew and her wife got a couple of cavies as pets (that's the technical name for guinea pigs. Now you've learned something). And that reminded me of a story from before I was Professor Matthew and was just Youngster Matthew.

The Sisters of Professor Matthew frequently had cavies as pets. So when Middle Sister of Professor Matthew asked for one as a present for her birthday one year, the Official Parents decided that she was old enough to handle the responsibility (which meant that she was old enough that Official Father would not end up doing all of the waste management).

Off to the pet store we went. Official Middle Sister picks one out. It gets brought home and put in a temporary home. We children observe it. Much speculation is made that it is acting odd. But if you've ever had a cavy as a pet you know that pea brained and nervous rodents. How can you describe them anything they do as odd? Odd is standard operating procedure.

Still, this one seemed "Just not quite right."

Next morning Official Older Sister and I are first up. We head to the kitchen for breakfast and also to check on the critter. It is not moving.

OOS: "I think its dead."

Me: "Nah, it's breathing."

"No, it's dead."

"It's asleep."

"You're wrong."

"I'll show you." And with that I scoop it up.

It was stiff. Dead long enough for rigor mortis to set in. I responded with something eloquent like "Glaaaah!" and dropped it.

To this day I will swear that it bounced a little.

For a sense of closure, I'm pretty sure that the corpse was taken back to the store and exchanged for a more "alive" one. I'm not sure if a receipt was necessary.