She got me well trained – I learned that a high-pitched, insistent squeaking meant it was time to check the fridge for any veggies lurking with intent – if so, I handed them over to PC Squeak who quickly disposed of the offending carrot or lettuce. I learned that a low, stuttering growl meant “If you don’t have it away on your toes, you’re going to get bitten. Hard.” and best of all, I learned that a quiet, coffee-pot burbling noise meant that Squeak had ordained it to be Squeakcuddle time.

I left her in – I thought – capable hands when I went on holiday. When I came back after a fortnight of sun, sea, sand and Squeak-missing, I found she was skin and bones and could hardly lift her head up. Her pigsitter had not given her any hay “because it was messy” and so her teeth had overgrown, preventing her from eating. I rushed her to the vet who performed dental surgery, and a long period of syringe-feeding began.

Her complete reliance on me meant that we grew closer and closer, and when not in her cage, she would follow me around like a little dog: on one occasion, even following me upstairs. Her weight gradually crept back up, but she would still not eat on her own. Her teeth were perfect, blood tests showed there was nothing wrong, and in the end, the vet, in frustration, suggested she may be lonely and advised getting her a friend.

Enter Yoshi – an abandoned, blind and partly deaf Abbysinian guinea pig who had been marked for snake food if no sucker took her. I’m not sure whether Squeak had been lonely for piggy company, or whether it was the fear of fat little Yoshi getting more food than Squeak herself, but my little girl began eating on her own and I began to learn more about guinea pig illnesses and just how many piggies were abandoned like Yoshi had been because they were ill, or not “perfect”.

I became a guinea pig rescuer, taking in and nursing abandoned piggies. It’s heartbreaking, heartwarming and rewarding, all at once. Squeak is long gone, but her legacy lives on in the shape of many piggies. Rudolph, who was thrown out to make room for a puppy – his owner considered the kids had learned responsibility for an animal, so out he went. Abandoned at Christmas and with a red, hairless nose due to a diet-related vitamin C deficiency, Rudolph seemed the only name he could have! Pepper and Parsley – their owners did a moonlight flit. Nobody knows how long they were alone in their hutch before a neighbour called for help.

Winnie – her owner moved in with her boyfriend and there was no room for the sweet natured little fluffball. Moshy, Dusty, Jimbo, Scruffy – so many bundles of love and joy – all stemming from that one Valentine’s gift!