Guinea Pig Connection

What Relentless TLC Can Do To Mites

When I left off with Rolo's story, the excruciating itching caused by the mites had led Rolo to self-mutilate, adding more open wounds to the ones he came to us with. Cindy and the vet had put him in a body wrap and started a course of prednisone. To comfort him, Cindy spent many evenings with him on her lap watching TV. On weekdays, Rolo went to work with her due to her concern that he'd try and scratch himself and get a leg caught in the bandage.

Although many of the open sores had closed up, the itching was still intense enough that whenever the body wrap was taken off, he'd immediately start scratching, hurt himself, cry out in pain. Even if he didn't scratch right away, the new skin was tight and the smallest movements pulled and tugged at it, upsetting him.

The first day that Cindy left him at home while she went to work, Rolo tore his bandage off and opened a wound on his back. So back to work he went. Cindy kept him in small cages to restrict his movements; with one cage in the kitchen and one in the bedroom, Rolo was always with her and she could always catch him quickly if he tried again to tear off the bandage.

In mid-July, Rolo returned to the vet. Dr. Albin prescribed an antibiotic ointment called Animax to put on Rolo's back each day when Cindy changed the bandages. The recommendation was to keep Rolo bandaged until the sores completely healed and his hair grew back.

By early August, his skin was healed and his hair was filling in all the bald spots (though not fully grown in). But Rolo was still having trouble with itching and discomfort, so Dr. Robbins took some cultures and sent them to the lab. The result: Pantoea Bacteria, which is associated with, among other things, wound infections. The vets had never heard of this in guinea pigs before. The godsend was that the bacteria was sensitive to familiar antibiotics like SMZ, Baytril, and Doxy.

Understandably, after such a hard battle, Rolo's exhaustion was palpable and his eating choices narrowed exclusively to leafy greens. His front teeth showed some mild, uneven wear; Cindy prayed that he wouldn't have dental problems on top of everything else. As the new antibiotics started working on the pantoea bacteria, Cindy and Rolo settled in for a long recuperation.

These days you would hardly recognize Rolo from those photos you saw in Part I and Part II of his story. He has a thick Abyssinian coat, and he's plumpety-plump-plump. His eyes are bright and his coat has a good healthy color. But his battle aged him, and in his energy you feel the been-through-it-all wisdom and fatigue only found in those who have been to hell and back.

Moderately social, he's more reserved than most piggies and Cindy is his Preferred Human. A little too withdrawn, Cindy attempted several introductions to find him a roommate. After a getting-acquainted phase, a successful match was found in Bentley.

Sociable and a little rambunctious, Bentley seems to have easily found a balance between pulling Rolo out of his shell and giving him the space he needs on his quieter days. In many of the photos Cindy has taken of them, there's yet to be much (if any) snuggling between them--yet Bentley is rarely far from Rolo.

Rolo will almost certainly remain in the sanctuary. When you see him and Cindy together, it's impossible to envision him with any other human caregiver. They've left imprints on each other's heart and separating them would replace the imprints with holes.

What Mites Do To Guinea Pigs (Part 2)

In the first installment of this mini-series, I introduced you to Rolo and shared the story of how he found the rescue. I admit fearing that in my effort to make a needed point, I might have gone too far with the photos and the emotion. It was hard to be around Rolo on July 2 and not be emotional and angry; it's hard to remember that day and not feel all the same emotions again. 

Reassurance came from one of the blog's email subscribers, Jennifer Wright from Texas, who emailed to say that Rolo's story helped her put the pieces together about what was troubling her new guinea pigs (who, it sounds like, came to her with mites). So, onward... 

You'll remember that I said in Part 1 that Rolo got worse before he got better. Once Cindy started throwing the full course of medicine at him, the mites took their last stand on Rolo. A gently administered bath removed the dirt, mite debris, loose hair, and flaky skin; if nothing else, getting rid of all that old icky stuff raised his spirits and strengthened his will. 

But the mites didn't go away quietly and Rolo was consumed by the itchiness. He itched and he itched and he scratched and he scratched. And he tore himself up in the process -- wherever his nails could reach. His back and his neck...

...his sides...

...and his face...

Nothing calmed down the itching. Rolo scratched and he cried, and he scratched and he cried. When the blood dried and the wounds would start to scab over, it was one more thing that pulled at his tender skin and made it itch. And so he'd scratch and he'd cry -- and cry louder. And when he cried, Cindy would flinch and run to him. 

She was running out of ideas, and so was the vet. Then, a brainstorming exchange on the GuineaLynx forums yielded an idea. 

The wearable piggy wrap, constructed of gauze and bandage, gave Rolo some peace. He couldn't scratch at himself, and the wrap seemed to help calm down the itching. As the healing started, Rolo had some free time on his paws. Time to rest, socialize with other pigs, and eat -- eat a lot. And so he stayed wrapped for the rest of the summer. 

Stay tuned...the story gets better from here...

What Mites Do To Guinea Pigs (Part 1)

The call came in at 5:15 on the evening of July 2: a guinea pig had been found abandoned in a cardboard box on a path near a reservoir in Fairfield by someone who was out walking a couple of dogs. The day had been hot, one more in a series of uncomfortably hot days, and our first concern was heatstroke and dehydration. 

When I retrieved the pig, he was in a cardboard box with a Chube, a half-filled water bottle, and a food dish with a few food pellets in it. Gisella, the young lady who'd found him, said she'd been unable to get a good look at the piggy (because he wouldn't leave his Chube) but thought she saw a bite on his back. It was by the grace of God she'd found him; the piggy was left on a path she walked only infrequently, but that afternoon something -- Something -- pushed her down the path, she thought, to give the dogs a change of scenery. 

What I could see was dull eyes, dirty fur, and a lot of flakes in the fur. The piggy had no trouble accepting the romaine lettuce and carrot that I placed in the box. I called Cindy to tell her I was bringing him to Durham that night, instead of fostering at my place until the weekend, because something was very wrong and I knew she had a variety of medications on hand that I didn't.

When she lifted the piggy out of the cardboard box 60 minutes later, she was as horrified, angry, and worried as I was when she saw his condition. Considering some of the horrific cases she's taken in over the last 8 years, it said something that she wasn't sure if he could be saved. 

He was thin. His eyes were surrounded by crusted discharge. Easily 75% of his hair was gone. Where there had once been hair was bare, scratched-up skin and layers of dandruff-like flakes. A couple of places were scabbed over, where he'd scratched himself until he bled. 

He cried out in pain when Cindy gingerly lifted him from the box. He cried -- I'm not exaggerating -- when you lightly touched the tip of a small clump of hair with a gentle finger. He cried at every kind of touch in between. Each time Cindy touched him to give him medicine, she'd have to wait over a minute to touch him again because physical contact left him quivering, twitching, and almost seizing. In record time, she managed to give him Metacam (for pain), antibiotic, ivomec (for mange mites), and Vitamin C. We both cast up prayers, because neither of us thought he'd live through the night. 

Every time he cried I alternated between wanting to cry and wanting to put my fist into whoever neglected and abandoned him (and I'm not a violent person). Every time we looked into his dull, listless eyes, our hearts broke. Every time he twitched and flinched, pieces of us died inside. 

This doesn't happen overnight. It doesn't happen over a weekend. It doesn't happen in a week. This takes time. We've had people surrender pigs to us who were missing half the hair that this little guy was, and listened to them try to convince us that it "just happened in the last couple of days"...as if Cindy wouldn't know better after 950+ pigs and 8 years.

This is what mites do to guinea pigs.

This is what a neglected guinea pig looks like. 

Cindy named this little guy Rolo. His story gets worse before it gets better. 10 weeks. $600 in diagnostics and treatment. Numerous vet visits. Boundless patience and compassion. 

I'll be telling his story in installments, because the story and some of its pictures are too overwhelming to take in at once. 

Stay tuned...

Is It Too Hot To Talk About Cozy Cups?

We're always on the lookout for new sources of things to make a small critter's life luxuriously comfortable and, fortunately, there is a growing community of craftswomen opening up shops on the Web.

(I say "craftswomen" because, so far, everyone we've found out about is female. There may be men out there making stuff...we just haven't run across them yet.)

We have to hand it to this community, they do their best to support the small critter rescues. (Fabric is not cheap, even if you take advantage of every coupon and sale at places like Joann's Fabric & Crafts.) So we do our best to give them exposure, and hope you'll try their products and spread the word about them through your favorite social media channels.

Debbie Warren, who lives in southeastern Connecticut, opened her own online business named Simon's Shoppe. She's been very generous to the rescue. The pigs love the comfiness of her cage accessories, and Cindy loves their durability. Currently, you can find Simon's Shoppe on Facebook. For those who aren't on Facebook and don't want to be (like me), hopefully Master Simon will consider setting up his Shoppe someplace like Etsy (hint hint...nudge nudge). In the meantime, you can contact her at SimonsShoppe [at] gmail [dot] com.

We Are Grateful For Your Response

Nearly two weeks ago we shared with all of you that the rescue was struggling with how to make it through the summer financially.

We were stunned by the response. In less than 24 hours, $800 had come in, ensuring that June's operating expenses were covered. Before the week was out, another $800 arrived, covering July's operating expenses. Cindy tells me that we have also already received enough donations to cover about 25% of August's expenses covered.

We are so profoundly grateful to all the donors who stepped forward so quickly with such generosity. "Thank you" hardly seems enough, but it will have to do until we can find more eloquent and poetic words for you.

On behalf of the piggies...Thank you!

Back Online, Bouncing Back

We never meant to be away so long. But Life has a way of changing our plans and finding new ways to test us to see just what we're made of.

Frankly, we -- and, particularly, Cindy -- could have done with a whole lot less testing, a few more breaks, and a winning Powerball ticket.

The last few months have brought her and I a lot of personal and professional changes. More changes than anyone should have to navigate in 10 months.

The last few months have brought her and I a lot of health and financial challenges. More challenges than anyone should have to cope with in 10 months.

We've come out of our respective ordeals stronger, wiser, more cognizant of what we're each made of, more certain of who we are individually, further affirmed in what and who we are collectively.

That's not to say we came out of all this completely rejuvenated and restored. Cindy is exhausted and burned out. I'm searching to find out how Rumpelstiltskin turned straw into gold, because turning even a sandwich-sized Baggie full of hay into 24K gold would solve our current stack of problems.

But our interactions with 12 pigs from Brooklyn, and two very little pigs named Harley and Danae, amped up our conviction and commitment to the cause. In the near future, I'll share their stories and countless others we've accumulated -- and how the little ones who have crossed our paths renewed our faith, reignited our fire, and changed our perspective.

We hope you'll join us...