Farewell, Dear Squee!
Yesterday was wierd, but in a good way. I had the day off. I loafed. I shopped (You'd think Best Buy would have an RG6-to-Composite converter box, but NO!). I did stuff.
In the middle of my Doing Stuff, right after getting a new shower curtain liner from K-mart, the rains came. 'Bout time, too. I head home, my errands curtailed by the skyward gloom. The sky made an agreement that it could rain on my head a small amount if it let me get home before the deluge. The sky kept its promise. Once home, the heavens opened, and it was glorious. I stood on the blacony, leaning over the railing so that my nose was right out in the cascade, and I could feel the million tiny gales of the falling raindrops. I watched the patterns of hard and soft rain cascade across the parking lot pavement, as if just behind my apartment a couple of house-sized men were busy slinging buckets of water over the roof. The thunder and lightning were ferocious, making both Squee and Witty a little nervous. Unfortunately, the lightning killed the Internet until this morning.
It was very nice to have the day off when a bigtime storm rolls through, though.
All of this conspired to make me wait until around 8:30 before going to SuperPets for some guinea pig food, one of my more important cancelled tasks. When we were done schnoozling at the fudgy bunnies and noisy birds and smelly ferrets, we went to checkout where we met a fellow who was in process of having the cashier convince him to get a guinea pig. He was almost decided to do so when we stood in line.
*BOING!*
"Excuse me, sir, would you like a free guinea pig?" From there it was pretty smooth and effortless, though I did have to clean out Squee's cage one more time, out of courtesy. The guy lived alone, was feeling lonely, and wanted a small, non-destructive, non-neighbor-annoying pet. Guinea Pig! I had silent reservations at first, but then he told us how he had kept a rat for 8 years. Bingo. We handed him everything, cage, stand, toys and all, and threw in the cavy book, too, so he could look what's different between piggies and rats. (A distinct lack of huge, hangin'-out-in-the-air nutsack is one thing that comes to mind...) We told the guy what we knew about Squee, and of his obession with baby peeled carrots, stuck the li'l guy in his Playball of Paralysis, and waved goodbye. Dude was set with a total pig-package including cage, stand, and play fence, pounds of food, a few weeks of hay, and bedding for at least two more cleanings, so he was quite happy. Danielle and I were finally rid of a nagging feeling of guilt for having a pet cared for, but not really wanted.
After we watched the guy drive off, Danielle turned to me, put her hands together, smiled, and said in a tiny, meek, expectant voice, "...kit-ten?"
In the middle of my Doing Stuff, right after getting a new shower curtain liner from K-mart, the rains came. 'Bout time, too. I head home, my errands curtailed by the skyward gloom. The sky made an agreement that it could rain on my head a small amount if it let me get home before the deluge. The sky kept its promise. Once home, the heavens opened, and it was glorious. I stood on the blacony, leaning over the railing so that my nose was right out in the cascade, and I could feel the million tiny gales of the falling raindrops. I watched the patterns of hard and soft rain cascade across the parking lot pavement, as if just behind my apartment a couple of house-sized men were busy slinging buckets of water over the roof. The thunder and lightning were ferocious, making both Squee and Witty a little nervous. Unfortunately, the lightning killed the Internet until this morning.
It was very nice to have the day off when a bigtime storm rolls through, though.
All of this conspired to make me wait until around 8:30 before going to SuperPets for some guinea pig food, one of my more important cancelled tasks. When we were done schnoozling at the fudgy bunnies and noisy birds and smelly ferrets, we went to checkout where we met a fellow who was in process of having the cashier convince him to get a guinea pig. He was almost decided to do so when we stood in line.
*BOING!*
"Excuse me, sir, would you like a free guinea pig?" From there it was pretty smooth and effortless, though I did have to clean out Squee's cage one more time, out of courtesy. The guy lived alone, was feeling lonely, and wanted a small, non-destructive, non-neighbor-annoying pet. Guinea Pig! I had silent reservations at first, but then he told us how he had kept a rat for 8 years. Bingo. We handed him everything, cage, stand, toys and all, and threw in the cavy book, too, so he could look what's different between piggies and rats. (A distinct lack of huge, hangin'-out-in-the-air nutsack is one thing that comes to mind...) We told the guy what we knew about Squee, and of his obession with baby peeled carrots, stuck the li'l guy in his Playball of Paralysis, and waved goodbye. Dude was set with a total pig-package including cage, stand, and play fence, pounds of food, a few weeks of hay, and bedding for at least two more cleanings, so he was quite happy. Danielle and I were finally rid of a nagging feeling of guilt for having a pet cared for, but not really wanted.
After we watched the guy drive off, Danielle turned to me, put her hands together, smiled, and said in a tiny, meek, expectant voice, "...kit-ten?"