Tobby

I was contemplating about what I should write, when a picture on my dresser inspired me to tell you a bit about some of the various pets we have had over the years.  Today, I present:  Tobby.

Tobby was not the first guinea pig to grace the household.  He was one of many successive cavies:  Beach Boy, Harry Potter, Skittles, Rupert, Tobby, James and Moose have all graced us with their presence, in various combinations at differing times. Tobby, however, was unique, even among guinea pigs. 

Tobby came to us from an Arizona guinea pig rescue, who had cared for him since his birth a year before because of his special physical and medical needs.  Tobby was a lethal white, a genetic mutation from the crossing of two Roan parents.  The constellation of defects varies for each lethal white; Tobby was micropthalmic, blind, and deaf, and later had digestive issues that required medication three times daily.  He also had issues with his mouth when he was older due to deformed teeth and elongated roots.  Despite his problems, he lived far longer than expected for a lethal white - several years, in fact.  We were lucky.

Tobby had glorious long fur.  It was coarse, thick, straight and completely white, and would fan out around him as he tromped through his habitat.  He looked a bit like a dustmop.  We would occasionally have to trim the fur around his nether regions to help him maintain good hygiene.  He tolerated his haircuts with dignity.

One might have expected a blind and deaf creature to be skittish.  Not so.  Tobby ruled the guinea pig habitat, clearly dominating Rupert, his aged companion, and making numerous attempts to befriend Harry Potter as well.  He mastered the ramp to the second floor of his habitat quite easily, and would scuttle up and down, his fur flowing in the tiny breeze generated by his movements. 

Tobby liked his vegetables just as much as any other guinea pig.  Oddly, though, he would eschew the pink juicy bits of the watermelon, choosing to consume only the rind.

We trained Tobby to be aware of our presence with the help of scent.  We kept a small jar of cloves on the top of his habitat.  If we needed to handle Tobby, we would first wave the cloves before him.  Once he paused to sniff the air, indicating that he had smelled the cloves, we would then pick him up. It worked quite well and helped keep him from panicking at an unexpected touch.

 Since neither noise nor unusual motions in the environment would bother him in the least, Tobby would go about his guinea pig business regardless of any hubbub in the household. When he would settle down to sleep, he had the amusing habit of flattening himself significantly.  One moment, he would be standing up; the next, he would yawn and then pancake himself on a blanket.  Only then would we realize how very small he truly was.

Occasionally extended family members would poke fun at Herself for adopting such an obviously deficient, malformed and needy pet.  We did not listen, though, for Tobby taught everyone valuable lessons in patience, gentleness, and caring.  We were blessed with the warmth of good karma to be able to provide a comfortable life for this tiny and most humble creature among us. In exchange, Tobby exuded a sense of wisdom and serenity far beyond what one would expect from such a diminutive cavy.  His very presence was soothing.  He was a good boy indeed.

He has been gone for a few years now, but he will never be forgotten.  Rest in peace, Tobby.