As if following the script of a better-than-average made-for-T.V. movie, our beloved guinea pig, Mouse died this morning. A few days ago, we pulled the little rodent and her daughter - Maisy - out of the cages for a “running of the guinea pigs.” Mouse has been with us for 5 and one-half years and Maisy is one of a lineage of eight cavies that followed.

Although the needs of children usually shove pets down on the attention scale, we still tried to get those piggies out for some fun. Oh how we giggled! If you haven’t seen a guinea pig’s bottom wiggle across the floor, you haven’t lived (put it on that list of 100 things to do before I die!). I noticed something odd but didn’t think much of it. When I snuggled the two creatures up on the yellow towel to rest Mouse sighed and closed her eyes - even with all the commotion - she looked like a tired little guinea pig.

This morning, something odd happened again. Usually Coco is responsible for feeding the animals. We gather together lettuce and set it on a plate. Coco goes out every morning and night and spends some time talking to them and kisses them good-night. Here’s the odd thing: This morning Coco and I ascended the stairs together, but I held the plate in my hand and said, “No, that’s O.K. I’ll feed them. You got to put those slippers on.” It was a cool morning.

I opened the cage; tossed in a cucumber; and stopped short of burying the lifeless Mouse in lettuce. She lay across the cage as if she’d stretched out to yawn and stuck there. How odd it was that I found the body and not Coco. Or was it? I descended the steps and joined the nanny and kids at the table while everyone finished eating. I gave hand signals to the nanny that we had a dead body on the grounds. We both knew what that meant. Soon their would be tears. The odd thing was, I had a little time to prepare for it.

I don’t believe in turning away from the facts of life. Look straight into it; feel IT all; and move on. For this much I know: If we don’t, IT sticks in our craw and causes havoc for years to come (but that’s just my little theory). If Coco had found the body, we’d have managed, but it was as if this script had been written for me, I just had to keep turning the page. Coco finished her breakfast, and I got to have a cup of coffee. Then, I retrieved the body and put it a towel so my daughter see the soft little face she so loved.

We moved to the living room, I nodded to the nanny a signal as if we were about to launch a secret raid. Coco wiggled around on the floor, pretending she was a dog. Her brother was thrilled. I called her over to the couch and looked into her eyes. I brushed back her hair and knew in less than a minute, there’d be tears. I took Coco to the body. As tears streamed, one after the other, over her cheeks, she leaned over and kissed her beloved pet good-bye.

“I love you Mouse. You were the best guinea pig ever in my life.”

We moved to the patio. I grabbed the shovel and found a spot of dirt that wasn’t a clump of roots. It’s odd isn’t it? Or is it? I have this feeling it’s not just chance. I have a feeling that the more in tune we all get with this good energy vibe; the more we unwrap ourselves and give to others; the more we become flexible and graceful at all times, the more we stay on the page and can see that movie unfold, the more empowered we become to direct the movies or our lives into gorgeous little scene, after scene, after scene…..

The nanny said a blessing and a prayer over the grave, and Coco made a plaque. Rest in peace little Mouse. Cross over the Rainbow Bridge to bliss. Run like you’ve never run before!