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.
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.
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?
I don’t know what’s going on, but there are many strange things happening.
Take this blog. It’s changed colour. It’s snowing (it snowed on Thursday, too). There are pictures of people I’ve never met at the top of the front page, and in the slideshow (although Kevin, Midge, Oscar and Percy are in there too). There are funny sparkly things and even funnier hats.
I saw Mummy in one of those hats yesterday when she went out to the golf club. She says she must find time to take our Christmas pictures. I don’t know what Christmas means, but it’s something to do with hat pictures. I gather that Colman didn’t like wearing a hat.
I don’t know what it feels like to wear a hat. I don’t need different clothes, not like Mummy does. She has a nice padded brightly coloured thing that she wears for golf, and likes so much she wears it in here if it’s a little cooler than normal. It’s a similar colour to the background of the picture of the seven piggies above, but deeper. Mummy says it’s called turquoise. She also told me she’s bought a second one in bright yellow to wear when it’s foggy or darkish.
There are many times I don’t understand Mummy. If I see a hat, I’ll let you know.
Hello, Percy here. I hope the title intrigued you. Yes, my lump is disappearing! Mummy wondered whether she was imagining it a week ago, and she looked at me very carefully most mornings last week. Then she took me to see Dr Sally, who agreed: my lump is definitely getting smaller.
I am, apparently, a wonder of modern science, since a lump like mine has never been known to spontaneously disappear. It might have been affected by the sample Dr Sally took, which made it change its method of working. That’s the only thing Dr Sally thought she’d read about. But we can’t feel anything that might indicate it’s gone anywhere else. So I may be unique. I may hold the clue to all sorts of things. A combination of Baytril, Metacam, Emeraid, Nutrimed, carrots, lettuce, kale, lavender and mint, may be exactly what is needed to make this sort of lump go away.
On the other hand, it may just be one of those things.
And I’ve even put on some weight. I am the picture of a healthy guinea pig. Dr Sally’s very pleased with me. Even more importantly, Mummy loves me, cos she told me so.
It’s two years since I had my first birthday cake here. I arrived on 14th November 2015, and Dylan and Dougall had their fourth birthday on 27th November. I started out by living in the grey cage opposite them, the one Oscar’s in now. After Dougall died, I moved into their cage and Dylan went upstairs to live with Kevin. Then Dylan died and Midge went upstairs and Oscar came downstairs. It’s all very complicated. Mummy still misses Dylan and Dougall a lot, which is funny, because Neville looks just like them. He’s a nice boy. So is Roscoe. I hope we get to run around some more with them in future.
I hope I haven’t confused you too much.
It’s official. I’m a big boy now. I’m 1.3 kg and I take up all of Mummy’s arm when she’s carrying me around. I’m almost as big as Percy.
It happened quite slowly. I mean it wasn’t, one day I’m small and the next day I’m big. But now I’m big, and Mummy asked if I was going to keep growing or stop. I don’t know, Mummy.
I don’t think I’ll get as big as Midge. Midge is huge. He likes sleeping most of all, and Mummy often tries to take photos of him without him waking up. She thinks she managed it with this one. It’s not very flattering for Midge, but it does show off all his biggest bits.
I still run up and down my ramp, though. I’m not too big to do that. Mummy says that I should keep doing that until I get old. I asked how old, and she said Colman stopped when his joints got creaky. But she managed to make it so Kevin could still go up and down even when his joints got creaky, so there’s no reason I can’t go up and down forever. Mummy talks forever sometimes. You just have to listen and put up with it.
Percy wondered whether we should get one of the downstairs boys to blog. I don’t know if that means he wants to stop. Maybe he wants me to stop. It would make sense to have a view from the kitchen. Percy and I live next door to each other, after all. Percy is looking very well. His lump looks like it has disappeared. Percy says it isn’t as large as it was, and he’s perfectly happy about that. I think Mummy is too.
So Midge is fine, Percy’s fine, and I’m a big boy now. That’s good, isn’t it?
Hi Percy here.
Midge and I went to see Shirley and Barry, the tooth specialists, last week. I objected strongly to having my teeth examined, but Auntie Shirley held me by my shoulders and tummy , and Mummy held my back feet, which was surprisingly reassuring, and I let Uncle Barry look at my teeth and file one corner of one which had grown a bit. They all agreed that my lump does not intrude on my mouth, and that it does make me wear my incisors slightly unevenly. I don’t mind Mummy rasping my top incisors, but I object to the bottom ones being down. Shirley did my bottom ones 😦
Midge seems to have worn down his top teeth, which might be one of the reasons he had a sudden loss of weight, but there was nothing to cause him pain. He had some of his lower molars filed but nothing clipped off. His incisors are very big, but have ‘perfect occlusion’. While they were looking at them, Shirley noticed his tongue. Mummy said that the other day it looked a bit sore, although it didn’t the day we went to see Shirley and Barry.
You know how your tongue is attached to the base of your mouth with a sort of membrane? Ours attaches more to the sides. Mine is about halfway along my tongue, behind my cheek folds. Midge’s is far further forward, almost level with the corners of his lips! So he probably has trouble using his tongue. Mummy wondered if it stopped him clearing his mouth properly, and that was why it was always stuffed with food? I think you’re being over-generous there, Mummy. Midge’s mouth is always stuffed with food because he’s worried he might go hungry.
Mummy didn’t get a photo to show you, but here are some photos of Midge, me and the others taken eating the lovely parsley Auntie Shirley gave us from her garden.
So you see, some good comes from our trip to the dentist.
P.S. The lab report came back. I have a sarcoma. It might spread, or it might not. Dougall had a sarcoma but they took his out, because it was on his hip. Mummy’s stopped giving me medicine unless she thinks I need something. I’m very happy with all of that. Now perhaps I can have some peace and quiet.