MooMoo

Well now, our little MooMoo is gone. I can’t believe how much I miss the noise. For such a tiny thing, she sure could squeak. Every time I opened the fridge, no matter what time of day, she’d start hollering like I hadn’t fed her in years. I told my daughter once, “That guinea pig could win a shouting contest with a toddler. We named her MooMoo because of her black and white spots. Looked like a miniature cow. She had a strong personality, I’ll tell you that. Wouldn’t let you hold her unless she wanted it. And heaven forbid you didn’t give her parsley when you gave her lettuce. Oh, she’d sulk. She knew what she wanted. I’d sit and talk to her while I drank my tea in the morning. She didn’t answer, of course, but she looked like she was listening. Maybe she understood. The cage is cleaned out now, but I still glance at it out of habit. I still expect to hear her little nails clicking on the plastic bottom when I wake up. MooMoo was a funny, sassy little creature and she made this house feel full. She’ll be remembered with love and parsley.