They all slept in barrels with plenty of newspapers and straw to keep the young ones warm, and as they were very fond of calling on each other, particularly when there was the excitement of twins or triplets in a family, they would sometimes crowd too closely in a barrel, and smother a baby to death.
CHAPTER VIII
MY PET RATS
I was very much interested in these baby guineapigs, and was very much surprised to find them so fully developed at birth. Tiny and Guinea had families about the same time, and I found all the little pigs with pretty, soft-haired bodies, open eyes, and their teeth through, the milk teeth being already shed. In a few hours they could run by the side of their mothers, and in two days they could nibble vegetables.
Unfortunately, Guinea became ill, also her brown baby. I gave her white baby to Tiny, who was an excellent foster-mother to it, and taking Guinea and Brownie upstairs, I put them on a hot-water bag.
In watching Guinea I shuddered, thinking of the grief of the little girls, should she die. She breathed rapidly all the afternoon and evening. If I had dosed her with castor or sweet oil, it might have done good, but I did not think of it. At midnight she jumped up, ran around the room, gasped for breath, and died. I put her in a white box and sent for her little owners, who came sadly to see her. Never would I have believed it possible that one could become so much attached to a guineapig.
Guinea’s young one did well in the basement; the brown one died after I had fussed over it for a week, getting up two or three times at night, and stretching out my hand to poor Brownie, who would crawl on it to be fed.
I had the over-zeal of ignorance, and gave poor Piggy undiluted cow’s milk. Common sense might have taught me that a little water and a little sugar should be added to the milk of a great strong creature like a cow, when fed to any small animal. Afterward, I brought up several young guineapigs whose parents had died. Just at first one has to use a medicine-dropper or teaspoon to feed them, but in a marvelously short time they will stick their own little noses in their bread and milk.
One of my favorite pigs was a dark-colored, long-haired Peruvian, that looked like a weeping willow, minus its trunk.
When I first got him his funereal appearance seriously affected some of my birds. He lived, and was happy with me, and when I moved my pets to my farm I took him and the other pigs with me. They so much enjoyed the delicious red and white clover, and the kind attention of a relative to whom I gave them, that when I sold my farm, I left my pigs behind me. However, I have quite missed them, and often think that some day I must again start a nursery of guineapigs.