The pig and I
Feb. 3, 2010 10:20 am
Updated: Feb. 4, 2010 2:47 pm
Hey guys, it's chilly outside and cozy inside, so I think we know what
that means: blog time. Recently, a development in the behavior of my
guinea pig of three years, Pippa, proved too funny to overlook as writing material.
see, Pippa’s cage is located in our kitchen, adjacent to the
refrigerator. In our family, I'm always the first one up and about in the mornings. Step
1: brew coffee. There is no point in me making breakfast prior to
coffee; I would probably just end up setting something on fire (and I'm not talking banana fosters). But that’s beside the point. What I mean to say is
that Pippa feels very strongly that Step 1 leaves room for improvement
so long as it does not include the words “feed” and “pet.”
though L’Auberge Chez Pippa provides a 24 hour buffet service, complete
with dry pellets and hay, a special breakfast menu is required to
satiate our pig’s appetite. At first, she underwent a carrot phase, during which we must have blown thousands of dollars buying her baby carrots as a morning treat. At mom's suggestion, tangerine slices were added for extra
vitamin C. On rare occasion, apple slices were deemed acceptable.
Anything and everything else was scrutinized viciously, but left
If kept waiting, the acute howls of a dying hyena would overtake our small dining room, as if demanding to speak with my
manager. Sure enough, this summons my mother, who, like any good French woman, insists that “mon cheri has not had enough to eat," and doubles her snack dosage. Don't mind me mom, I'll just enjoy my left over pizza quietly in this corner over here.
what happened a few days ago not only surpassed my expectations
concerning the guinea pig diet; it gave me an entirely new respect for
It would appear that Pippa has been leading a
double life all these years: guinea pig by day, produce inspector by
night. We had run out of tangerine, and my mother tentatively handed
her a sliver of orange for the greater good of our ear drums. This was
immediately rushed into the small purple igloo where I assume Pippa
first developed a taste for premium Florida oranges. From that point
on, she has yet to accept tangerine or clementine in exchange. Lower grade
oranges are bitten into and immediately regurgitated, followed by more insufferable whining.
as I handed Pippa a slice of the good stuff, I hung around to watch her
eat. To my surprise, she did not touch the orange. Baffled, I went to
get my mug of coffee, determined to wait her out. But as I lifted my
drink to my lips, Pippa took her first bite. I put the cup down and she
stopped as well. I took another sip, and she another bite. We ended up
finishing our breakfasts together.
I can now say with pride that my family pet grasps not one, but two essentials of cooking:
1. Organic fruits yield better juice.
2. Meals are just that much more delicious when shared with someone you love.