Bertie

Temper Tantrum

It’s not my fault!  I had nothing to do with it.  I was nowhere near Roscoe when he got into a fight.  I had nothing to do with it.  It wasn’t my fault he put his neck between somebody’s teeth.  It was dark.  Why do you always pick on me? Just because I’m the youngest! I’m not going to play anymore.  I don’t want to do it.

Intermission

Percy here: Sorry.  Our little tearaway is just suffering from hormone-fuelled guilt, I think. He’s now been grounded until he can be more polite to you all.  I think we need somebody from Downstairs to do some blogging, anyway.  Let me introduce you to Roscoe, who is sporting a very dashing scar on the right side of his cheek and neck.

Hello Roscoe!

Roscoe with parsley

Way-aye, this is Roscoe here.  Some people say my accent can be a little hard to follow, but I’m sure we’ll be fine. I see young Bertie has had a wobbler up there, well, I wouldn’t call it good manners what he did, but now I’m all fixed up, like, so no harm done.

I’d like to thank Auntie Dawn, who I’ve not met yet, for her good idea about the ladies finding scars attractive.  Wor mam says it’ll probably be fine once my lovely long hair grows back, and I hope it does soon, ‘cos its a little chilly around the front end, if you know what I mean?  Dr Sally said she’d had to make a bigger hole than usual, because the lump had got so big.  At least, she said that when she was talking to wor mam afterwards, when mam came to tek me home.  I was pleased as punch to go home, I can tell you. It was nice enough there in hospital, but I like me home, and I suspect that young Neville was missing me.

So, I hope Percy invites me back to talk to you some more. Cheerio till next time.

Roscoe xxx

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Percy's new bed

My lump is back

Sigh.  Yes, my lump is back again.  Percy here, of course.

I have a lump on my cheek.  Mummy and Dr Sally spent a lot of time last year looking at it.  Sometimes Dr Sally gave me a rest on her bed while she took a look at it more closely.  One time I came back to a clean run all on my own while the stitches she’d put into my cheek healed up.  It all seemed very strange to me, but some time in the autumn my lump disappeared (or at least got very much smaller), but now it’s back as big as ever.

Percy in the hospital suite

It doesn’t really hurt, it’s just more difficult to eat with it, because it stops me opening my mouth as wide and also I tend to eat on the other side , so my teeth wear unevenly.  Mummy’s giving me the Nutrimed again.  She says it may have helped to reduce it before and she shouldn’t have stopped giving it to me.  I didn’t mind not having it.  I don’t really like having to drink things from the syringe. Mummy says I have to be a good boy and drink it down, so I do, but still…

Anyway, enough of me.

Roscoe was in the wars at Christmas – as in Bertie dashed up to tell him Bertie was in charge and Roscoe said, “oh really?” Bertie had a good fight with him and by the time Mummy got them to stop, Roscoe had a big bite on his cheek and his back.  He’s healing well, although the cheek one has developed an abscess.

Roscoe with parsley

I don’t know why Bertie is so impossible.  I thought I’d taught him well when he lived with me.  Mummy thinks she should have left him in with me for longer, but I don’t think it would have made any difference, Mummy.  He’s just made that way.  Bossy.

We wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year

Percy here.  This is our last post of the year, since next week is Christmas and the following Monday is New Year’s Day.  Mummy says we can have those days off.

Oscar

We lost Oscar from our gang on Thursday.  He’d been under Dr Sally’s watchful eye all year, and between her and Mummy they’d been treating him for organ damage from internal fungal infections and heart disease.  Mummy knew about the fungal thing from Cambridge Cavy Trust, but Dr Sally was more confident of the heart condition.  Anyway, Oscar had a good year, and enjoyed himself, and was perky all the way up until Tuesday, when Mummy got worried about him.  He went over the Rainbow Bridge during the night on Thursday morning. I expect Kevin took him in hand and showed him around. We’re now in mourning until the beginning of February. Seven weeks is the proper period of mourning in guinea pig customs.

Mummy had a sixth sense about him because she took a photo of him with his brother Midge on Wednesday.  They fell out with each other years ago, before I came, and never spoke to each other at floor time.

Midge and Oscar 131217

On Friday we had our Christmas photos taken.  You can see what charmers we are in our hats.  Roscoe wasn’t impressed with his santa hat.  I put up with it to please Mummy.  Bertie wouldn’t stay still, he got really over-excited and Midge and I had to tell him off.  Biggles was over-awed by it all and stayed completely still while Mummy took photos, as did Neville.  Midge and I are old hands at hat photos, of course.

I wonder what we’ll get for Christmas?  Maybe Mummy will post photos next week.

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Do you get Christmas presents?

There’s a lot of stuff about Christmas presents around at the moment.  I seem to remember that last year we got our blue pattern beds and tunnels.  I got the bed, and I really enjoyed it until Biggles and Bertie came along.

I realised the other day that this has been my problem, really.  I had a nice quiet life here, in a large cage on my own.  Then they came and I uncled them until they were getting feisty, and Mummy moved me (and my bed) upstairs to live with Midge. We lived next door to each other for a bit, then Biggles and Bertie fell out, and I moved in with Midge (with my bed) and Bertie came to live next door.

Midge sleeping

Most of the time Midge and I get along okay. I let him sleep on my bed and he lets me sleep in his tunnel.  Just lately he’s been bossing me a lot, and I don’t like that.  Sometimes I have to complain loudly.  Mummy gets worried about us then.

The other day we were really having arguments with each other – about who lay in the tunnel, I think -and Mummy decided to see if I should have a break.  She swapped me and Bertie over.  Bertie and Midge lasted about an hour before she decided that wasn’t working, so she put Bertie back with me. I thought it was nice of her to keep my bed with me, by the way.  She’s very thoughtful that way.

Bertie and I managed most of the day together, but towards the evening he started to get on my nerves.  He just invades my space, you know?  All the time, he wanted to sit next to me.  Or in front of me with his nose in my face.  Well eventually I had to tell him to go away, and we had a bit of an argument.

So Mummy put me back with Midge.  And my bed.

percy midge sleeping

I suppose, in the end, it’s how it must be.  Midge and I are grumping along as usual. It’s fine.

I wonder what we’re going to get for Christmas this year?  Bertie says he wants a snuggle-sac, but he’s got one he doesn’t use.  I think Midge and I could do with another bed so that we can each sleep on our own.  The boys downstairs probably don’t need much.  Some extra hay, or special herby things, perhaps.

What would you like for Christmas?

 

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