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Tristan is his name...oh



Whenever I clean the above-mentioned and visualized
-- 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.

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Comments

( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
lastglances
Feb. 13th, 2009 01:10 am (UTC)
i have yet to experience such hilarity with our guinea pig, jack. i'm glad to see tristan wasn't horribly mangled as a result and that you got a good laugh out of it.
gaeln
Feb. 13th, 2009 04:45 pm (UTC)
Honestly, I'm still chuckling, whenever I try and imagine it from his POV. Please, give my best to Jack.
qbeeqt
Feb. 14th, 2009 04:28 am (UTC)
Tristan is lovely! I'm so glad no damage was done! Can this be considered as a day when "pigs fly"? ;)

I love guinea pigs...had one for 7 years. She was a lovely girl. She loved to go out to play with the neighbours cats. We would meet in the hallway and the cats would "play stalk" Ruby until she turned and looked at them which would cause them to turn on their heels and run in the opposite direction. (In my mind I imagined them squealing like little girls :D)The only thing Ruby seemed to fear were strangers so whenever the elevator expelled another floor resident she would run to me and jump onto my foot. I guess I made her feel safe. I still miss her. *sigh*
gaeln
Feb. 16th, 2009 05:25 pm (UTC)
I believe it could be considered 'a day when pigs flew'. Rudy sounds like a wonderful lady. Seven years is a long time. It's funny how one little guinea pig could cause two cats to turn and run especially screaming like little girls. I have trouble imaging even taking mine outside. I envision some great hawk or falcon swooping down and grabbing Tris from my arms, carrying him off and him looking back at me silently condemning me with 'whatthehell, woman? What The Hell?' I'm afraid for him, it's his cage, the sofa, and the occasional day-trip into the bedroom, a suburban existence.
alasse
Mar. 1st, 2009 05:41 am (UTC)
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! that picture is SO cute (did you add the wash of white?)

I chuckled reading this story - I could just picture Tristan flying down to the floor. And, awww, he freaks out when you open cans of Coke and Pepsi? SO health conscious. Mugre runs like HELL whenever he's confronted with the vacuum cleaner or with a towel, he always runs to hide between my legs.

gaeln
Mar. 2nd, 2009 07:07 pm (UTC)
no, he just came with the wash of white. I kept laughing trying to imagine what he thought must be going on. One minute safe and warm and hidden and the next...flying thru the air. He actually landed on the sofa so...not so bad. It's sweet that yours runs to you when afraid, he trusts you.
( 6 comments — Leave a comment )

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