Every morning I'd go check on her, and like clock work, she'd check on me. I guess this ritual goes back to when she was pregnant and I'd check on her every morning (well every afternoon, evening and night too). They weren't my babies, but she was, and I helped raise them like they were my own. She didn't need much help, as she managed to sneak out little Boris, Natasha, Ewa, and Felix on one of the nights I wasn't by her side--I guess a gal needs her privacy. What's more amazing is that despite having an extra 50% of body mass, she managed to hold on to her bladder for astonishing periods of time while I had her on my lap massaging her sore joints and back. She was my little girl.
As her pretty daughters (they got their good looks and cute cow-lick from their mommy) grew up, a bit of jealousy and a bit of "grow up already and move out" set in, but I think she just wanted her daddy all to herself. Heck, she'd sometimes nip at or give golden showers to others, but not her daddy. Even in her old age, outliving even the most optimistic of expectations, and half of her own offspring, she remained true. This morning when I checked on my little girl, she was there waiting for me, eating her food, but no longer in this world. My little Sophie was gone.
Sophie entered my world on October 28th 2003, and left it today, May 7th, 2008. She was a little guinea pig, but her heart was bigger than a capybara. I'll always love you Sophie.