A Boy and His Pig

Last night, when I was on my way out to take the dogs on yet another walk (I've got to stop walking in and out of the house so much), my brother meandered over to Wilbur and asked, "Do you ever let him out of his cage?".

"Yeah. You just saw me put him in his ball so I could clean the cage."

"But, other than that? You know, to just run around."

"A couple times a week. Except now, you're staying in the office so he doesn't have anywhere to run right now."

"Oh." Sad, sad little man face.

(Reaching his fingers into Wilbur's cage)
"Why is he trying to bite me? Do my fingers taste good to him?"

"He just wants to know you. If you want you can take him out."

"Ok."

The dogs and I come back from our walk to find my 6'4" brother holding Wilbur close to his chest in his massive man hands.

Wilbur is splayed across his hands, eyes bulging and feet holding on for dear life.

"I think he's scared of me."

"Hahahahahahahaa!!! I need to get a picture of this."

"No! I don't want people to know I was holding a guinea pig!"

"Well, be prepared for them to know because I'm putting it on my blog."

Home Alone

I had a very long Saturday. And by that I mean, I HAD ONE HELL OF A SATURDAY.

Ahem...

With the whole family being in town, I knew that I'd be running around a lot. What I didn't know is that that would automatically make my house "the spot". You know? That place where everyone gathers because it's convenient.

But my house is not convenient. In location or otherwise.

Getting back...

Saturday, we picked up my little big brother (I'm older and wiser but he's definitely taller. Definitely). And because he hasn't had leave in over two years he wanted to do everything that he could think of.

Which left my poor babies in the house until 1 the next morning. But you know what? There was no poop anywhere. There was pee in two places but that's to be expected when your mom leaves you at 830a on one day and doesn't come back for 17 hours.

I didn't mean to do it; it just happened.

So I'm proud of my babies. And I know that they love me or at least they eat their poop.

Not Even a Twinge

Dad just left without me to go on a family outing. You would think that I'd feel ashamed, but I don't. It's nice to not have anywhere to go, anyone to see, or anything to do today.

For someone on vacay, I've been running around non-stop and I'm really tired. I think I'm going to sneak a nap in while he's gone.

And it'll finally be quiet for a few hours. Ginger has not stopped barking at him since he came in here last Friday. She even barked on his way out the door as a final farewell.

Klea is going crazy trying to love so many people at once. Cam is her new fav person because he rubs her belly non-stop. Like for hours. It's kinda crazy.

And I'm pretty sure that Wilbur is trying to chew his way to freedom because he doesn't want to be touched/held/petted/spied on anymore.

And I need to clean because the dogs are losing their minds with all the extra people smells in here.

But first I think we're going to take a family nap.

Temporarily Broken Hearted

Yesterday, I came home in the middle of the afternoon to find Wilbur laying on his blanket, eyes closed, and not breathing.

I called out to him. And he still didn't move like he normally does. He didn't squeak or chirp or even acknowledge my presence.

So, I reached out my hand to open the crate and...




he shot up like a rocket!!

Apparently, he sleeps in the mid-afternoon when I'm not around.

And he is not happy with me right now. I'm getting the sense that he wishes that I would just mind my own damn businees.

... and that's how the fight started

Lately, the dogs have been tussling more than usual. Like last night, I assume it's over nothing. Mostly because it goes like this:

*Time - 8:40p. Location - my bedroom floor. I hear -
Klea: Grrrrrrr
Ginger: Rwwwwrrrrr
Klea: Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Rwwwwwwrrrrrrrrrrrr *breath* Rrrrr
Ginger: Rwwwwwwwwrrrrrrrrrrrrr Grrwwwrrrrrwwwwwwwrrr *pause* Rwwwwrrrr
Klea: Ggrrrrrwwwrrrr Rwwwrrrrrrrrrrrrr Grrrrrrrrwwwwwwwwrrrrrrrrwwwwwwwrrrrrrrr *breath* Grrrrrrrrwwwwwwwwrrrrrrrrr Rrrrrrrrrrrwwwwwwwwwrrrrrrrrrr
Ginger: Rrrrwwwwwwwwwwwggggggrrrrrrrrrrr Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Grrrrrrrrrwwwwwwwwwrrrrrrrrr Rrrrrrroooooooowwwwwwwwwwrrrrrrr
Klea: Grrrrrrrrrrwwwwwwwwwwrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!
*Time - 8:42p. Location - from atop my bed.
Me: SHUT UP!!

*Time 8:43p. Location - my bedroom floor

The tussle started anyway and just like when Jimmy cracked corn... I didn't give a shit.

Contact Free For Me

This morning, I woke up at 5:30 like I always do. Rolled over and slept for another 15 minutes, like I always do. Finally, at quarter to six, I got up and got dressed to walk the dogs. I sashayed into the living room to greet Wilbur and what do I find? A 2 oz. bottle of contact solution chewed open and drained of its contents.

Normally, I would have lost.my.mind. Because this means that someone was in my purse. But alas, my purse was on the dining room table, where I'd left it the night before, and was seemingly untouched.

I don't want to say that I didn't care but, quite frankly, I don't care. There are worst things, right? It's just saline. And I hope that the culprit gets the shits. That'll teach them better than anything I could do.

Besides, thanks to the timothy hay I finally bought for Wilbur, my left eye looks like someone stuck a dirty poker in it. All sexy and inflamed. I couldn't get a contact in here if I tried. And I did. That's how I know.

Saying Goodbye

I've been a pet lover my whole life. It's something that was handed down from my Great Grandfather. We've had some sort of furry creature living in our homes for as long as I can remember.

I know first hand the love that pet can bring. They never remember the mean thing you said or when you forgot to take them for a walk. It doesn't matter how many times a day you walk through the door, for them its just like the first time.

And as we get older it's comforting to know that we have someone. Someone soft and furry and who loves you unconditionally. Someone who will just sit with you when you're having a bad day. Someone who hugs you with their eyes.

I also know what it is to lose a pet. I've lost pets to the elements, to poison substances, and to old age. I even lost a pet when we moved once. Jodiah kept running and my parents wouldn't let us stay another day to search. We had to move on without him... and it hurt. But I've never lost a pet - I've never lost anyone - to murder.

This brings me to the story about Mrs. White. She's a sweet woman in her seventies and was a proud parent to Muffin, a Shih Tzu. For years they lived together just the two of them. Mrs. White's son (who is fifty-one) has been living with her for the last three years since his divorce. Like any mother would, she made space for him and his two dogs. But she banned his dogs to the yard to protect herself, Muffin, and her spotless carpet.

On Friday, dear Mrs. White lost Muffin due to a careless act by her son. He placed Muffin, a house dog, out in the backyard with his Dobermans instead of taking her for a walk. When Mrs. White returned looking for Muffin, she had been mauled and was beyond help.

Please say a prayer today for Mrs. White. Pray for her in her moment of grief as she tries to accept what has happened. Pray that we can all help her to move forward. Pray that she may find it in her heart to love again. Pray that she can forgive her son, that she can forgive herself, and that she may live her life without blame.

Grandpa's Visit (or Why I'm a Bad Mom)

Grandpa's coming! Yay!!!

The pups are super excited. As they should be. They've never met Grandpa before. I always travel to see him and if you haven't figured it out already, they are a hassle to lug around. Plus, he gets to meet Wilbur too.

Now, I want to be excited but all I am is stressed the eff out. Just thinking of all the things I'll have to clean is driving me insane.

Plus, they all need haircuts. Ginger's so matted that I can't get a brush through her without yelps. So while they're all giddy about Gramps impending visit, I'm screaming like a banshee everytime something is put out of place (like that toilet paper roll that Ginger found God only knows where and decided to strew all around my apartment).

Needless to say, I've been sleeping worse than normal resulting in the occasional animal/human confrontation. This morning for example:

Klea: yawn and stretch
Me: "Move"
Ginger: "rawwrr. rawwrr. rawwrr."
Me: "Shut up".
Wilbur: "SQUEAK. SQUEAK"
Me: "Seriously?!? Don't I feed you every morning?"

I'm working on my attitude but I make you no promises. I'm already ready for this visit to be over so I can relax again.

To Feed or Not To Feed

I feed the dogs like I shower, once a day, in the morning. But that's now. I used to feed them twice a day. In the morning after our walk and in the evening when I got home from work. Even though I was portioning it correctly, they still managed to gain weight. After talking with their vet he advised feeding them all their food, once a day.

The problem? They have been eating twice a day for 5 years.

Now, when I come home I get no peace. None. There are bowls clattering. Hoarse barking. Eye batting. Tear shedding. Just all around mayhem. Every where I go Oliver Twist and Pip are close behind pleading their case and beseeching me with their eyes.

I guess, what I'm saying is that I'm not sure what to do. Who am I to say that they're not really hungry? I'm following the feeding guidelines on the bag and I don't want to give them more than that because we're not an active bunch.

What I do know is that they are driving me nucking futs over this new eating schedule and I'm about to give in just so I can sit down and breathe for five minutes.

Not that I can breathe now. I'm sick... again.