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”
I am so sorry Celi. Usually I read your blog the very last in my inbox every day…..like waiting for desert….the best for last. But today I read it first because I knew there would be bad news from the title of the blog. The Duke is now free from suffering. I don’t think animals understand when they get sick and hurting. I know you tried everything in your power to pull him thru….and yet he did not understand and fought you. Those of us who tend to and love our animals have a bond with them that many people do not understand. I know you are hurting too, with the loss. The jewel is now flying free and if you listen, you will hear him on the wind sometimes. Time to cuddle Marmalade….you saved him.
Ah, such a jewel too precious for this world. He enchanted us all. Relieved it was a peaceful passing. It’s always difficult.
HUGS!
I’ve cried all the way through your post and the comments, and my eyes are too blurry to write properly. Like the others I knew as soon as I saw the title. I’m glad for dear Kupa that his struggle is over, but my heart aches for you. The death of a beloved creature tears the heart out of the breast… and loving as you do, there’s no way round the pain.
I find screaming my heart out driving the car, where no-one can hear, sometimes helps. Maybe the hard labour of digging that grave will help to work some of the pain out. Thinking of you all XXXX
There is something deep and good about burying your own.. It is true.. c
Awe C…I too did not want to read through the post after seeing the title…I just knew…as we all did…but also like all who have commented before me…we the fellowship are still holding hands…this time together…around you…I hope that will relieve some of your grief today and in the days to come as you think of your beautiful, jewel Kupa…
I wish I was there to give you a big hug….but will send love instead…I am so sorry…you did everything you possibly could have…
Celi,
Oh dear ole Duke of Kupa ~ bless his heart for all the joy and memories he gave you and all the farm animals who also enjoyed him. I was getting my hopes up for him ~ I thought if anybody can save him ~ Celi will nurse him back to his glory! Some people don’t understand what it is to lose a dear animal ~ they are precious and for some of us it’s like losing a child. I know ~I’ve gone thru it several times ~ and then I hold them in death as long as I can until I wrap them up and bury them ~ so my heart is aching for you today ~ wish I was there with you helping to lay Kupa to his eternal rest. Let the tears roll ~ but I guess we can take comfort in knowing that the Duke took a lot of memories of his beloved caretaker Celi with him. We all loved the Duke of Kupa! A glass of wine to Kupa tonite. Rest in peace Duke.
Bring on the pictures of TonTon and little Marmelade!! they are a pair – I just love ’em – wish I could spend a few days with those two!!
Luv ya Celi, Carol
You can visit them anytime carol darlin’.. sit in front of the fire a spell.. c
Celi, this was just the last straw to have me bursting into tears this morning. I am sorry about Kupa. What a lovely gift he was. There never seems to be appropriate words that bring comfort to the deep recesses of our souls when we lose a good friend – a friend that we connected with via energy, emotion, and touch. You did your best and you know that. Your love for Kupa changed the world for the better. Much love to you Celi.
No more crying darling girl.. c
Oh Celi, I’m so so sorry and join everyone in their warm words of love and condolence. He was a beautiful bird on this Earth. Now he can be your personal spirit bird, perched somewhere nearby
with his tail sending out glimmers of light and color.
what a beautiful thought, he will be my spirit bird.. c
So sorry about Kupa. He truly was a glorious jewel. We had to put down our mare, Sassy a few months back. I was there when she foaled. She was 34 years old. Age, Cushings Disease and severe winter weather told us it was time. We still imagine her neighing in the morning and evening for her feed. She always talked to us. The animals in our lives give us riches we cannot count. It is alright if we cry with you. Thank you for sharing Kupa with us. Treasure your memories.
Ah, how terribly sad, my godmother had to put down her very old horse not so long ago and it was miserable.. 34.. that is a long time to have an animal with you.. thank you for that bev.. take care now.. c
I am sure the Duke of Kupa enjoyed his time with you, and that you provided the very best care possible for him. What a magnificent bird he was.
Aw, poor Kupa. But, he was wonderfully treated by being with you!
Oh, Celia, I’m so sorry about Kupa. He was a noble bird, even in death.
So sad to hear about Kupa. It just wasn’t to be and we are left to enjoy our memories of him.
I am so sorry you lost Kupa. I have been praying for him and am so sad.
Sorry about Kupa. I still feel guilty about my sister’s pet who I inherited. I wasn’t observant enough and because of that he was gone 😦
I am quietly looking at some of the beautiful photos of Kupa nothing can take away . . . all that is true and important has been said above . . . he will rest in peace with the others who have gone before him, forever on the farmy . . .big hug to you at the end of a complicated year . . .
I think that .. maybe.. all our years are complicated.. c
sure, Celi . . . but some complications are exciting and some just plain nice . . . yours have been ‘complicated’ complicated with little to compensate . . .
maybe we will have nice ones next.. c
🙂 ! Hoping!!!!!!!