When we were children and lived at the beach on a quarter acre section, we had lots of guinea pigs. Thirty-six at one time I remember. (We were very proud of that number) Males and females, shorthaired and long haired, all colours. The only ones who went into cages were the pregnant mothers, the rest ran free. My father even built a rock mountain with tunnels running under and through it for them to hide in away from the cats, there were even little rooms for sleeping. We used to put ads in the newspaper and sell the babies. Every morning after breakfast, already dressed in my school uniform, I would take a pot of porridge down the back, bang on the pot with the wooden spoon and call Guinea, Guinea, Guinea! They would erupt at a gallop from where-ever they were hiding and line up to eat, as I ladled the porridge out in a row on the grass.
Our back yard was pretty wild. My mother told us that it was important to keep and breed the animals because as well as learning to take care of animals (which we did) we also learnt about birth and death and it’s natural progression. Needless to say we had a little graveyard behind the swings with named white crosses and everything. My elder brother was in charge of making the crosses, he did a very good job and my little brother provided the shoe boxes for coffins. We sung hymns and said prayers and had quite elaborate little funeral services.
My mother died almost 30 years ago now, when I was a very young mother, but I need to tell her that I have learnt this lesson now and can she please stop teaching me. The Duke of Kupa died last night. I am sorry to be blunt. But I don’t like euphemisms for death especially after we have worked so hard to keep him alive. He did not pass, he is not gone, he died. He was our beautiful bird.
There has been a wee bit of a thaw so I hope the ground is not too frozen, I will bury him down the back with the piglets, Mama’s lambs and White Cat. John is working 12 hour days so I will do this by myself.
And he died with such relief poor fellow. His lungs stopped. The bellows exhaled. He shut his eyes. And his whole body relaxed.
He managed to die under a warm light on a miserable grey day. All very fitting for the day we lose our jewel.
God knows it is hard not to throw myself into a snow bank and say Woe is ME! How could I have missed the signs. But there you are, the milk is spilled. Even a short time with an animal or a friend can be wonderful. Just because he did not live for twenty years does not mean his life was any less complete. He was so beautiful. But there are animals out there who need me on my toes and paying attention.
Ok Mum, let’s get to work with the living now.
I am sorry. I know you loved him too.
Do take care and have a lovely day for Kupa.
your friend
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
135 responses to “The Duke of Kupa”
Oh dear, I have been away for a few days. Hugs to you.
I had 3 friends loose their companion dogs this weekend also. One of which was only 2 and they ran over him accidentally. Very sad loss for them and us. H
As I told all 3 – they lived wonderful lives filled with love from you. Know that however the length of life – to be loved and cared for is to have a good life. You would not want them to outlive you for you would worry for them in the hear after, where I believe we will all meet once again.
Again, hugs and comfort – pat
I don’t know how I missed this post and yet I did. I found out from Viv today and when I got back home, sat down right away to find this. This morning we received news of a friend’s death, from cancer, back in Canada. I held my tears in when i got the news but, as I sat down to read about Kupa, the tears began to flow. We can only be thankful for the joy and beauty that friends, whether human or creature, bring into our life, mourn them when they die, and then get on with taking care of things.
I’m so sorry. He was a beautiful bird. Losing a companion like the Duke of Kupa is so heartbreaking, but we are all better for having had him in our lives – even if it was just thru your blog.
Oh, I am sorry you lost him to death. He was such a bright spot in your posts, I always looked for a photo of him.
Awwwwwww. Do not blame yourself. 😦
I am traveling with the most rotten internet service ever, and just managed to see this. I am so sorry Kupa died. He was a beautiful bird and worthy of all the care you gave and the adoration from your readers. I am sorry. Thank you for sharing his life with us.
I’m so sorry to hear this news. I found your story about the guinea pigs inspiring.
So sorry. Many critters die without having been loved. By this I do not mean that they were wild and did not know the love of a human or other animal friend; I mean they are in the company of humans who do not share their love, for whatever reason. To die without feeling close to anyone must be awful. The Duke of Kupa was loved. You give your love to so many critters. That never goes away. Maybe it is not our understanding of life cycles that helps us overcome loss; but rather the certainty that we have given and received love. Maybe this is what your mum was teaching you.
Oh no. Just fully catching up with posts. I’m so sorry to hear about Kupa. He had a tough fight. He was quite the bird and I’ll miss his stories.