Friday, March 07, 2008

A most nutritious nom

It’s been unexpectedly enjoyable adding two fur babies to our family. The moment I was able to get past the whole ‘rodent’ aspect of guinea pigs, I found them absolutely wonderful to have around. They squeak on command, slightly potty-train themselves, give wet kisses when they’re hankering for a plate of veggies, and don’t bark. The not barking thing was one of my non-negotiable provisos when considering another pet. We had a little doggie once and on any given day his name was Frodo Baggins, Frody-Dody, Frodo the Flying Falcor, Frodely-Dodely-Doo, and Frodo-Shut-Up! Frodo was a most unique blend of lhasa-apso and poodle, otherwise known as lhasa-poo. He barked at the door. Barked at the birds. Barked at the wind. Barked at the furnace. Barked when we laughed. Barked when he farted.

It was during my third trimester of blissful gestation bloated torment that I came to the decision that either a) I would eventually strangle the dog with one of my super-sexy, knee-high, diabetic-friendly, circulation-promoting maternity socks. Or b) I would drive deep into the woods and leave him there for the witch from Hansel and Gretel to find and eat.

So I gave him to my sister.

Now we have two guinea pigs named Melissa and Charlotte and we don’t have a dog named Frodo.

Are they not adorable?!

Melissa’s got a perma-frown due to a silly wee tuft of forehead hair that won’t lay flat. Charlotte’s so chubby we mistakenly thought she was pregnant when we first brought her home. Turns out she’s just a greedy little piggie who doesn’t care about a girlish figure.
My Girl usually stuffs a pig into her sweater while doing long division and I often find my Boy engrossed in his dragon books while a pig sleeps in his hair. And naturally we all keep a constant vigil on the Toddler – who thinks stuffing a pig into his fire truck and howling WEEEOOO-WEEEOOO while zooming it around the house is a really great idea.

Me? I like to cradle a piggie in my arms and rock her as she nibbles at my hair and rumbles. It helps curb the ‘I think I want another baby’ feeling that often accompanies ovulation. Sigh.


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