Billy came to live with me sometime in the early 2000’s while I was still living with my parents. I had owned guinea pigs and gerbils and hamsters growing up so when a friend asked if I’d like to care for Billy, I was happy to bring him home. He came with the name Billy, but I secretly called him Billy Boyd after my then favorite actor Billy Boyd who played Pippin in “The Lord of the Rings” films.

Fast forward to 2005 when I moved out of my parent’s house and into my first apartment. Billy was still around. He was already ‘older’ when I took him in as my own. By 2005, he was pushing it as in I was at least his third owner. I really didn’t know how long guinea pigs could live, but I was pretty sure he was going for a world record (I wish I knew his real age…I’m guessing he died at 8 or 9). I wasn’t going to move out until he passed, but he was living the good life so I figured he could be around a while. The apartment complex I was looking into had a ‘no rodent’ policy due to past circumstances of different pets getting lost in the apartment walls. (Yikes!) I told them I had a guinea pig, which technically wasn’t like a hamster or gerbil and that he was very old and couldn’t possibly be around too much longer. I don’t know how (except the grace of God), but I managed to convince them to let Billy move in with me. 

A year later, Billy was still with me. It was 2006 and my apartment was robbed along with several others in the complex. The thieves took my laptop, my favorite little digital camera (cheap little freebie but it was a big deal back then) and some other things. Billy was the only witness. I always wondered what those robbers thought when they encountered Billy. Anyway, a few months later around November, I decided I needed a dog to keep Billy and I safe. This is when Dakota my first Pomeranian came along. (His story is for a different day.) Needless to say, Dakota was a puppy and as he grew and watched me care for Billy, he began to treat Billy as his pet too.

So Dakota and I took care of Billy together. I would get home from work, let Dakota out and then we’d both go to Billy’s cage to feed him, replenish his water, and spot clean his cage. (Weekly cleanings were on the weekend.) Billy was finally starting to show his age. He would get little sores on his feet so I would give him warm salt water foot baths. He had problems pooping (which I later learned were impactions) and I kept him clean and comfortable so he could go to the bathroom easier. Dakota was always nearby watching. He and I did our best to keep Billy comfortable and happy and we did for several more months. 

One evening when I came home from work, Dakota and I went to feed Billy and noticed that Billy wasn’t standing well. He seemed to be having trouble walking and staying upright. Something told me he must have had a stroke. My heart dropped because I knew his time had come. I went through the routine of feeding him, giving him water, cleaning him up and making him comfortable. He couldn’t really eat so I hand fed him and made sure he got little drops of water in his mouth. He responded well and eventually laid down to sleep for a bit.

I felt comfortable leaving him so that I could take Dakota out for a short walk. When we came back Billy was no better, so I put on my turtle neck sweater (did I mention I was allergic to Billy?) and brought Billy out of his cage. I wrapped him in my favorite hoodie and just held him while sitting on the couch with Dakota. We watched over Billy and loved on him until he took his last breath. We then called my Papa (grandfather) with the news and per family custom, took Billy to Papa’s house to bury him with the rest of the family pets. Dakota was with me for that first senior goodbye. He made it so much easier. Having a pup when saying goodbye to a senior, I later learned, is key. More on that another day.

I remember looking back over all that extra care for Billy during those last few days and for the first time wondering if there was such a thing as a nursing home for elderly animals. That’s the moment the Lord planted the thought of caring for senior animals, but it didn’t grow for a very long time. At that moment, I had a puppy to care for and soon an eight year old horse too. It would be seven years before another senior animal came into my life in the form of a one-eyed all black Pomeranian named Buster.