Cuddlefist

I have decided that guinea pigs are the hobbits of the animal world. 

1. They like places to hide, especially warm clean ones.

2. They are always up for elevenses. Or second breakfast. Or any other meal.

3. Change is frightening and uncomfortable, unless it is a new place to be comfy and snuggle up and hide. 

4. Have you seen their disproportionately large back feet? Which are also covered in fur? 

However, they lack hobbits’ ability to be quiet: one overnight guest memorably described the peeg sounds (combined with his hangover) as an “all-night dance party.”

Even asleep and sick and doped up on Theraflu, when I hear the guinea pigs shrieking madly for food, I still wake up and go into the living room to check their food bowls. I gave them a little more of everything, but they soon made it clear it was not enough. I gave them each a cranberry and went back to bed. 

I am well-trained. 

Today I learned that my guinea pigs don’t just like pumpkin, but will hide from each other to eat it in peace.

I loomed over the guinea pig cage with a cup of broth in my hand, sipping. Pip zoomed excitedly back and forth, wheeking for whatever tasty treat she thought I had for her. 

“No, baby, this is mine. You don’t want this. Here, smell it.”

I let her smell the mug and away she ran. 

“See? I told you so. You can’t have this. It’s made from animals!” 

As if on cue, out ran Cece from her little tent, shrieking gleefully.

That pig ain’t right.

Can guinea pigs “talk” in their sleep? I’ve been watching the pigs all day today like a hawk because one of them was making a weird sound. I am pretty sure it was Pip, who was quite asleep but woke up when I got near the cage to check out that sound. Has anyone heard this before?

I don’t know if I believe in human heaven. I do know, though, in my heart of hearts, that there is a guinea pig heaven, and there are a million billion peegs lounging (with the foot out) going, “NOM NOM NOM” into perpetuity.