When my sister and I were on vacation in Paris, we were sitting at a café and started talking to the couple at the next table. They were not American or British but spoke perfect English and the woman told us that she was a veterinarian. I mentioned that I had just gotten a pet and needed to find a veterinarian. She asked what kind of pet and when I told her a guinea pig, she said, “You don’t need a vet for a $20 rodent.” I was flabbergasted. Didn’t this woman have to take some kind of oath to care for all animals?
Apparently, there aren’t many vets who want to care for small animals. You have to look a little harder than the neighborhood vet office. I discovered this when I noticed that Princess Piggy Poo had a problem with her poop. There was a gelatinous something hanging on to it. Naturally, I went to Dr. Google to see if I could find a diagnosis. After trying a few searches “jelly poop guinea pig” yielded an entry. Some Q & A site came up with no medical information other than dire warning of imminent death and advice to see a vet.
My next thought was to call the pet shop where I buy Princess Piggy Poo’s food and supplies. They hadn’t heard of any such thing as piggy poop goo. They did, however, supply me with the name of a small animal vet in a nearby city. I called to see if I should stress out Princess Piggy Poo with a vet visit. Wow, they were not helpful at all.
I decided to keep an eye on Princess Piggy Poo, who, despite her sticky poop was eating fine, squeaking up a storm and popcorning with delight. A few days later her turds were back to normal and I was relieved—first, that Princess Piggy Poo was okay and, second, that I didn’t waste time and money on an aloof vet.
The decision to let nature run its course can go either way. Making choices for another’s life is daunting—whether it’s a $20 guinea pig or a $6,000,000 man.