Auntie Dawn told me such lovely stories about her pigs last month that I saved some for this month.
So, Auntie Dawn: What favourite memories do you have of your guinea pigs?
There are so many! I’ll confine myself to talking about how we got each of our departed pigs.
Saku was our first pig. One warm April afternoon, I left work early, and Uncle and I took a train out a place called Queens. We had seen an ad on the Internet in which a man said he was looking to rehome his daughter’s pig because his wife was allergic. We arrived at the appointed place, the parking lot of a bank, and waited. We didn’t have a cellphone at the time and thought we were in the wrong place. Eventually we figured out we were on the wrong side of the bank.
We found the man and his family. His little girl, who was about four years old, sat in the backseat of the car and cried as he took the shoebox containing the pig away from her. We felt terrible, but the man insisted that they couldn’t keep the pig. We didn’t quite believe the story about his wife’s being allergic; we think they just wanted to rehome the pig. It worked out well, though, because we got a gorgeous baby sheltie! I couldn’t believe how tiny, and furry, he was. Being new to pigs, we had no idea what to expect, but we knew we had begun a wonderful adventure.
A few weeks later, we decided that Saku needed a friend, We ended up going further out into Queens to get our second pig. We’d seen another ad about rehoming, and we met the young woman who’d posted the ad and her boyfriend in front of a McDonald’s. She was heartbroken to give up her beautiful boar, but being a college student she wasn’t able to give him the time and attention he deserved.
I was delighted when I saw him. I’d never seen a pig like him: half black and half white, with a zigzag pattern down his back, a white crest on his head, and one white front foot and one black (he was the clone of Hugo, who lived with your mummy). Once we were back on the bus, I put my hand in the cage to pet and comfort him, and wouldn’t you know it, he bit me! If it had been any harder, the bite would have penetrated my thumbnail. I didn’t hold it against him, though; I knew he was just frightened. That was the only time he ever bit me, though he bit Uncle a few times. Ha! Uncle deserved it.
Older than Saku, Mariusz was the first to pass. When he died, we were heartbroken, but we decided to get another boar both to console ourselves and to give a home to a pig who needed one. We didn’t find any relevant ads, so we went to Petco. I wished I could have taken all of the baby boars. One captured my attention, though—an agouti who looked a bit older than the others. Something about his face reminded me of Victor, who lived with your mummy.
As we walked to the bus stop, I held the little cardboard box from Petco tightly, worried that all the bumping and thumping inside would cause the box to open. This was a feisty little dude! The first thing that Willoughby did when we put him in his cage was to run laps. I can only think that he was happy to have a spacious, amply equipped home all to himself. This was the just the beginning of his athletic career. He would spend as much time as we’d allow him running around the apartment (under supervision, of course); he would do things pigs shouldn’t do, like jumping off the bed. However, he was never aggressive with us and never bit. He was our gentle giant.
Awww. I think Mummy’s writing a story starring Willoughby. I’m in it too. Now, last question (or request): tell us a secret that we promise not share with anyone except readers of the blog
Uncle and I were eating one day when all of sudden Uncle groaned, covered his mouth, and ran into the bathroom. I had no idea what had happened. Did he lose a tooth? Is his mouth bleeding? Did he have to vomit? It turned out to be none of these things.
He had put a pig poop in his mouth.
Somehow the poop had gotten mixed in with the food. Humans don’t eat poop as pigs do, not even those special, nutrient-laden poops that you pigs sometimes make. We feel that poop is repulsive to eat, so the fact that Uncle put a poop in his mouth is both disgusting and hilarious. I’ve never let him live it down. You can tell everyone!
Hah-ha-ha-ha! That’s so funny. I wonder what it tasted like (and whose it was!). Thank you, Auntie Dawn. I really enjoyed our interview.
Thanks for letting me share these stories, Kev.
You’re welcome. I wonder if anyone else wants to be interviewed?