-- image snagged from google images, mine has a wash of white across his nose --
guinea pig's cage, he burrows into a blanket on the sofa until I'm done.
Just best for his own well-being and for mine.
I have done this all along knowing full well that one day I would forget.
That the day would come when once done with the cleaning,
when I wandered outside to throw his used litter in the garbage,
I would be distracted by and would have an immediate need to pull a few weeds,
and once done, while on my way back into the house via the garage
I would undoubtedly find something -- pretty much anything there that needed to be straighten
and once back in the kitchen
I would be possessed by an almost obsessive need for food or drink or to straighten something.
So that by the time I finally made it back to the den
-- ten minutes or two hours later --
I would barely even remember I had a guinea pig,
let alone one that was burrowed inside the blanket at my place on the sofa.
And that without thought I would sit on him.
Always been afraid, never changed a thing.
Well, I can now delete another unnecessary phobia from my eclectic file of things to be phobic about
because today was that day and it has come and it has gone gone
and without a chocolate brown guinea pig
being squished on an equally chocolate brown sofa.
I didn't actually sit on him but I did completely forget he was there.
I whipped up the blanket so I could sit and Tristan went woosh right under my leg as I went down.
We had a good chuckle, my crested guinea pig and I, as you well can imagine.
He looked at me as if to say, 'We both knew this day was a'comin'...now didn't we?'
We certainly did, my dear Tristan, we certainly did.
And I'm certainly glad that's over with.
He has his own quirks though. He is a very quiet little guy
but if anyone so much as opens a Coke (or Pepsi) can anywhere in the house
he squeals as if he's been personally assulted.
We just laugh. What else can we do?
Stop drinking Coke? Don't think so.
And if I could on Mood: below I would chose 'fucking tired' but, sadly, that's not a choice.