by Natale Ghent
When she finally reached Milly’s cage, she stopped and clapped her hands together, as sweet little girls sometimes do. “Oh, Auntie!” she said. “Have you ever seen such an extraordinary creature?”
All eyes turned to Millhouse, who did not respond but simply stared back at the girl with a mixture of confusion and shock.
“She means you,” Elliot whispered across the room.
Millhouse froze, completely taken aback by the little girl’s praise. She hadn’t laughed or poked at his cage. She hadn’t wrinkled up her nose or pointed or said anything rude. She’d called him extraordinary!
“Go on!” Elliot whistled. “Give her one of your famous smiles.”
Milly bared his teeth. But instead of a smile, it looked as though he were about to bite the little girl. It wasn’t at all what he had imagined he’d do in such a situation.
“May I hold him?” the girl asked, undaunted by Milly’s apparent disinterest.
The Weekday Man opened the cage door. He retrieved the bewildered guinea and placed him in the little girl’s arms.
A strange hush fell over the shop. The girl held the guinea with great and honest tenderness. She caressed and clucked and coddled, and she even held him against her cheek.
“How lovely he is,” she sighed, kissing Milly behind the ears. “How gentle and soft and dear. And he smells wonderful, Auntie—like fresh cedar!”
Now, normally this sort of public display of affection would incite ridicule from the other animals. But no one made so much as a peep. Even the Abby, who was typically very rude, stifled a burp so as not to break the spell.
A shiver of happiness tingled down Milly’s spine. The girl’s hands were warm and loving. Her voice was sweet and smooth as honey. How good it felt to be held! How good it felt to be adored and cherished and cared for!
“Look at him, Auntie,” the girl said. “He’s absolutely perfect! And there’s no fear he’ll become entangled because he hasn’t any hair at all!”
Millhouse blushed. He’d forgotten that he was naked.
“We’ll take him,” the woman announced.
Milly’s tiny guinea pig heart nearly stopped in his chest when he heard her words. Could it be true? Had he finally been discovered? Had he finally found happiness and love? Would he really have a home in the theater again? The idea was so overwhelmingly incredible—so impossibly glorious—the pig thought he would laugh and cry and jump and faint all at once. But all he did was quiver as he beamed shyly at the beautiful little girl.
“Oh! But I forgot to ask his name,” she said.
“Millhouse,” the Weekday Man answered.
“Millhouse,” the girl repeated. “I shall call him Milly for short.”
“Why, that’s what I call myself!” Millhouse exclaimed, astounded by the little girl’s brilliance.
The girl continued to hold and caress Milly while the Weekday Man handled the exchange. He took the whimpering Peruvian from the cage and set her on the counter, replacing her bowl and water bottle with those from Milly’s own cage. He gathered up the guinea’s shoebox of props and his great volumes of important literature. “These are his things,” he said, handing everything to the woman.
By the time Millhouse was ready to go, the other animals were in tears, and the pig was beside himself with emotion. “I can’t believe this is really happening,” he said.
“Good-bye!” the animals called out to Milly. “Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye!”
“Good-bye, my friend,” Elliot whistled. “It won’t be the same without you.” He dabbed at his eyes with the white cloth. “Darn beads won’t stop leaking.”
“Good-bye,” Milly sniffed, a lump forming in his throat. “I shall never forget you, dear friend. You’ve been so kind to me.”
The rat nodded mutely, unable to speak.
Milly’s lips trembled. There was so much more he wanted to say.
The Weekday Man opened the door for the little girl and her aunt.
“This is all so sudden!” Milly said.
The firefly blinked from a corner of the room.
Milly waved back. “Take good care of yourself, my gentle friend.”
The girl held Milly close as she stepped from the shop into the fresh spring air.
“And so farewell!” Milly called to the other animals. “And fair be all thy hopes!”
“Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye!” the animals said once more.
Milly gazed back at the shop long enough to see the Weekday Man snipping at the Peruvian’s tangled mop with a pair of scissors. He could see Elliot standing woefully at the front of his cage and the firefly blinking. He could see the Honey Cream instructing the Abby on some finer point of etiquette and the chameleons clinging to their branch. He could see the white mice scratching, the goldfish swimming and the gerbils spinning around and around in their wheel. He could even see the White Collar waving from his high-rise and the Pepper Brown curled into an angry ball beside his dish.
Millhouse watched as the pet shop grew smaller and smaller in the distance. He looked up at the girl, his eyes damp with gratitude, his face glowing with joy and peace. He breathed in deeply. The spring air smelled fresh and clean, like rain and flowers and earthworms. It was all too wonderful to believe. The pig rubbed his eyes to be certain he wasn’t dreaming. The little girl smiled lovingly back at him.
“Just look at him, Auntie!” she marveled, cuddling the gentle pig in her arms. “I love him so much. He’s just perfect for my productions. He has the kindest, sweetest face. He’s absolutely magnificent!”
And indeed, the pig was.
Acknowledgments
Sincerest gratitude to my editor and kindred spirit, Tara Walker, for her endless enthusiasm, skill and wit, and for giving Milly such a wonderful home.