We used to call him our antisocial cavy because he really did not like to be picked up -- took after his father. The secret is to pick cavies up every day once or twice. Now, Eddy only runs if he would rather be eating. Otherwise, he is pretty complacent about being handled.
We also called him our miracle cavy because he was the only one of four in the litter to survive. If Richard had not awakened at 4:30 that morning of August 29, 1994, it is possible that Eddy would not have survived. Richard saw him move slightly and began to talk to him softly. His mother was resting at the other end of the cage from what the vet had warned us would be a difficult delivery. Eddy's eyes opened and he looked at Richard, who always thought that, because of this contact so soon after being born, Eddy thought he was his mother! Premature, looking like a tiny skeleton covered in fur, Eddy would not suckle, and the vet was worried that he would not survive. We were determined that he would; we got up every few hours to feed him a tiny bit of moistened alfalfa pellet on our fingertips -- just rubbed his lips to entice him to lick it. It wasn't but a couple of days before he gained the strength to drink his mother's milk as young cavies do. The vet said he really made up for his initial poor appetite later as he became for a while our most overweight guinea pig ever. The three of us went on a diet, and now, at least Eddy's weight is normal! Oh, his green "beard" is from his supper of spinach which he has just finished.
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