Bandit & Critic

What. Is. This. What is this? Can we herd it? Can we snuffle it? Can we love it and adopt it and call it our own?

What is going on here? Gentle Readers…

Bandit and Critic Meet Bandit and Critic!

The Little Prince has been mad for guinea pigs for quite some time. I waited to see if the fad would fade, but I guess it’s not going to. He begged and he pleaded, he did his chores…and I caved after months and months. Because I am a sucker.

The Princess helped me get everything ready before bringing the little critters home (which involved OMG SO MUCH REARRANGING MY OFFICE) and the dogs and the Prince were, of course, absolutely beside themselves with glee and wonder. So, this last weekend, we became the proud(?) parents of two little rodents.

Yes. Rodents. In my office. Because I love my children. And am a sucker for puppy-dog eyes. *sigh*

The transition’s gone pretty smoothly. Bandit is the smooth one in the foreground there. He has a swoosh of black on his left cheek, and it looks to me like a prison tattoo. He’s pretty fearless, and was the first to explore the cage and take a treat from the new monkeys’ hands. Critic, the one with cowlicks, huddled behind their big sleepyhide thing and gave me a filthy look when I turned on some Wagner. (Which is pretty much everyone’s reaction when they walk into my office and ponderous opera is playing.) “Everyone’s a critic,” I told him, and just like that, I knew what I was going to call him.

Of course the Little Prince calls them by Pokemon names, and the Princess has her own names for them, but Bandit and Critic will do here on the blog. So far they’ve settled quite nicely, making happy sounds, eating hay like it’s going out of style, and happy to be objects of fascination to everyone, critter and monkey, here at Chez Saintcrow. (Their habitat has a lid, for I do not trust the Mad Tortie.) The dogs, especially Miss B, want them on the floor where they can be snuffled and herded, but I’m thinking that’s not so much a good idea. It’s breaking B’s heart.

“OH PLEASE, JUST LET ME HERD THEM. JUST ONCE. IT WILL DO THEM GOOD!”
“No, you’ll just scare them. They’re fragile.”
“I’LL BE CAREFUL! I’LL BE SO CAREFUL! LISTEN, THEY’RE WHINING–”
“That’s not a whine, it’s a purr. It’s their happy sound.”
“IT DOESN’T SOUND HAPPY TO ME. THEY’LL BE HAPPIER IF I HERD THEM. THEY’RE HERD ANIMALS!”
“No.”
“OH COME ON!”
No.”

You get the idea. Odd Trundles, of course, just wants to lick and love and smoosh them and call them George. *eyeroll*

I sense fun times ahead…

  • martian moon crab

    Miss B and her undulating carpet of Herd Piggies… you need about 100 more than what ya gots… grin.

  • Youngest nephew just HAD TO HAVE ONE!! after watching the class piggies for the holiday break. Hence, Chico and his habitat now take up most of their living room.

  • Lili

    I know, right? I should send her to the pampas or whatever to be a cavy-herder. She would LOVE that.

  • Lili

    The habitats do tend to expand. Wow.

  • My youngest daughter just cut to the chase and called her guinea pig George.

  • Twenty years ago, after dragging my kids from the beaches of Jupiter, Florida to the arctic tundra that is Michigan, I brought home a guinea pig as a peace offering. Mookie (black and white like a tiny Guernsey cow) needed a pal, so Lucy (a ginger female) joined him. Too naive to keep them separate, we woke one morning, to the tiny whistles and squeaks of 3 more piggies; one of whom we called Jean Pierre. His back story was that he was a retired Canadian hockey player and now a waiter at a restaurant in Montreal because his fur looked like he wore a black vest and white apron… and he “spoke” with a thick accent. Moral of this story: get 2 cages…unless you want a dynasty before fall. Gotta say, they were great pets and the daughter had fun bathing them and “styling” their hair.

  • Lili

    We are ABSOLUTELY certain these are two males, littermates. So we’re okay on that front, I think.