In my living room is a cage (with door always open) about 3' long by 2' wide. The wire enclosure fits into a green tray with the bedding. Inside is a Guinea Pig named 'Pig.' Or rather, renamed from 'Baby' to 'Pig' by my 24 year old son.
For a brief while we provided refuge for Megan. And because at the time her Mom was temporarily living with her parents, there was no home for Pig. And could we please keep it temporarily?
Get that? Temporarily? Uh huh . . I'm sure many of you know about that.
Well, Megan is gone. Megan, her Mom, and Megan's daughters now live in a very nice room trailer. and Grandma in a trailer. There is plenty of room.
Where is Pig? Yeah . . you got it.
When Megan moved out I asked if she wanted to take Pig with her. "Oh no Ma, you keep him. Mom says you'll take good care of him." (All the kids call me 'Ma'.) Can't say I didn't try.
And then the other day when we gave Megan a ride to her and her daughters and Grandma's new trailer I asked again if her Mom would like her Guinea Pig back, this time there were two 'No's!'. From Megan and my son in unison. Megan adding, "Remember? Mom said she knew you'd take good care of him?"
Yeah, I remember.
Please understand. I don't hate this rat-like, rabbit-like critter. It's just that a Guinea Pig is not on the my top 10 list of animals I'd like to have . . nor on the top 20 list for that matter.
And of course my son just loves Pig. And as you may have noticed, we were told Pig (or Piglet sometimes) is a boy. My son has checked, rechecked and checked again. Piglet is a girl. But it is my understanding that all Guinea Pigs are spayed or neutered before being sold. Not that I would test that by expanding our Guinea Pig population.
And this Guinea Pig, whom my son begged we keep (I always wanted a Guinea Pig, please?), back when I had to make the decision, is not your typical Guinea Pig, or so I'm told. I guess most are very active and love to run around. So with trepidation, I warned my son that I didn't want to lose her under a bed or stack of clothes the first time he decided to let her out.
As usual, the Lord knew best. Paul took her out and put her down on the floor. If she moved an inch, that was a lot. He encouraged her, even walked her gently to show her it was safe. She remained where she was put down on the floor.
We could have left her for an hour and she wouldn't have moved. She's obviously not an explorer. Thank you Lord.
Want to guess who promised to take care of her? And now do you want to guess who takes care of her? The latter is the same person who takes care of the litter box.
With Wizard, my Burmese meowing in the morning until his and his brother (in the fur) are served, Pig reminds me of her presence in her squeaking voice . . awww morning. It's a wonderful thing that the Lord gave me a love for mornings.
Ghost and Wizard eat first . . they have seniority. Then the attention turns to Pig. Fresh water and a handful of preferable Romaine lettuce (or Iceberg if not) 2-3 times a time and a continual supply of dry food makes her happy. She puts up with Iceberg lettuce but runs to the dish for the Romaine. I've just found out she likes cucumbers as well. Did I say run? Yep . . within the confines of her home.
And anytime either of us opens the fridge or touch a plastic bag we hear a SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK! So far I've had to remind Piglet she doesn't eat ___________(fill in the blank).
You're probably wondering about the cats and the Guinea Pig. Natural enemies? Not on your life. The times we let Pig out, Ghost, my young 2 year old Siamese, wants to play and brings his paw up to make a little 'tag you're it' tap but has never worked up the courage to actually touch this non-cat.
And Wizard? He's my 12 year old Burmese. His reaction to Pig? Yaaaawwwwn.
Now a pop quiz: Who promised to clean the tray on which Pig lives? Okay, good! Now who actually cleans the tray? Not hard questions, huh? The latter answer being the same person who cleans the litter box. I'm the Queen of the Litter Box.
When I was younger I would have probably gone to the trouble to have Pig out a lot. I would have put her food dish outside the cage and the water to try to train her to feel free to roam. Like I said, that would have been when I was younger and I might add delusional.
I really feel bad that Pig is in her very much open-air cage. And like I've said, the door is always open. But has she ever come out (not a hard thing to do)? Nope, not once. I know she can get up on her hind legs. In the morning she's in the corner of the cage facing the kitchen with her front paws up on the cage looking just pitiful.
Ghost has often put his head inside to say hello (and has rubbed noses with Piglet).
Apparently we have a unique shy Piglet. (I want to call her Miss Piggy.) And she had learned a trick, according to my son. He has her out a lot. Not a surprise! He can now put her down about 2' from her cage and she runs to the open door (which opens downward), and up she climbs into her cage. "Good girl, Pig!" And she gets an extra treat for her skill at being able to walk.
He found out the other night that when Pig realizes she is not going to be carried to her cage. He put her down and gave her a lecture that if she wanted to be back in her cage, she had to go back herself. And we waiting. We talked and he'd look and she was just sitting there. We kept talking and he checked. "SHE DID IT! SHE DID IT!" I smiled and said 'She's back in?" Yep! she made it from five feet away and it included her having to turn too. Her eyesight appears to be pretty good for that.
I was made to feel guilty the other day that I don't pay enough extra attention to her. So I took her out when my son was gone. I've never done that. I held her. I talked to her. I gave her a kiss on the head. I put her on the floor back here. Then up on beat up old loveseat. And how did she show her appreciation? She pee'd on the loveseat, floor and me. So much for my guilt. It's quite gone now, thank you very much.
Our communication now goes as far as my saying hello when I walk by her . . Give her fresh water and food and talk to her then.
My son gets the benefits.
But hey, that's okay. My cats make up for it.
ps: I want to mention the inspiration for this article. Remember Erma Bombeck? I just loved her. The Lord brought the title to my mind, but I couldn't stop thinking about Erma Bombeck. So this article is dedicated in her memory.
