Our gold-and-grey guinea pig Delmo is very ill. He had been hopping on three legs earlier this week, so I took him in for an exam. The vet tells me he might be suffering from cancer, kidney failure, a severe Vitamin C deficiency, or a bone infection. Whatever the problem, something is causing his bones to disintegrate inside his quiet and gentle little body. He is on antibiotics in case the cause is infection and on Vitamin C in case the lack of it is the problem. There's nothing we can do about cancer or kidney failure.

I felt so useless after I brought him home from the check up. I put him on the floor and let him rest after two hours of being pulled and stretched by strange,strong hands. He squeaked from time to time. I stood by, feeling huge, human, and helpless. Then I put his big brother Tapper on the floor so he too could get some exercise. Rather than engaging in the normal exercises of exploring or trying to eat my bamboo chair, though, he headed for his little brother and backed his generously proportioned rear-end up alongside Delmo's sore leg. That stopped the squealing in pain on the floor as Delmo purred with the pleasure the heat and the company afforded him.

It didn't stop the human noise, though. I sobbed and sobbed as I watched one critter take care of another with the heat of his own body. Tapper leaned into Delmo's pain, and Delmo leaned back and that was the problem solved for a good long while. It was such a sweet and simple moment.

That night, I slept with Delmo on the floor beside me in a makeshift bed we had created from an old wash bucket. Around 2:30 a.m., he cried out in pain, so I picked him up and lay him on my chest. He made his way, slowly and painfully, to my throat, and he rested under my chin. There we lay until dawn. I grew used to his feather-light weight, the rhythm of his breath, and the tickle of his whiskers.

I guess our lives are small, no matter who or what we are. And we're here for just a little while. If all we can do is be warm for each other, that's really something. Some days, it seems to be just enough.

I drafted the above on Wednesday evening. On Thursday evening, I came home late from work. There was Delmo in his makeshift bed and my husband and daughter beside him. Delmo started to shudder, so I picked him up and lay down with him on my chest. He shuddered until he died right there minutes later. Please say a prayer for my daughter, who misses her friend very much.

(Image: Delmo is on the right; Tapper, on the left.)

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