Was that really five years?

Just a little under five years ago my friends S & A came over a few days after my birthday with a gift. They brought over the cage and all the accouterments, we went out later that night and got the little guinea pig they'd spotted at the shop. I always thought he was grey, but to the non-colorblind eye he was a really a reddish color. He was tiny and scared when we first brought him home, he was probably only a few weeks old. Before long, his demanding squeak was heard whenever someone opened the crisper drawer, and he was tame enough to just hang out on my lap as I watched TV or sat at the computer. In five years, I moved him around town three times, neglected him a bit more than I probably should have when we lived at the drafty, drunken Shaver house. After I moved in with G, even though he was desperately allergic to the little guy, he took him in and gave him more attention than I ever did. The last two years were the best a little pig could ask for, all kinds of fresh produce, a new enlarged habitat, and a prime spot in the living room instead of tucked away in a room where no one ever goes. We had a good five years Cedric. Thanks for being so damn cute. Thanks for giving me something to focus on, another living thing that was in my charge. The silence was deafening this morning as I got out of bed and went about my morning routine without your squeaks for parsley. You were just a little critter, but you were a huge part of our lives.