We were struck by good fortune this weekend and got to have Alex and Hannah Ogden over. With them came Gladys, a guinea pig the size of a small rabbit or a large rat, which, while squeaky, was mostly well-behaved. Certainly less boistrous than the children.
Except when they decided she should be released from her cage. Alex was holding her and decided she might like it inside his shirt. She rooted around a while. He giggled. Alison giggled. Hannah went to apply her make-up as the girls were soon due at a YAT class downtown.
When Alex invited Gladys to leave his shirt, however, she declined. She wiggled into his left sleeve. Then explored his tummy. Then his right sleeve.
Alison thought a carrot might lure her out. "Hee-re Gladys. Come on Gladys. Come on."
A nose emerged. It wriggled. A head followed. Then teeth. They latched onto the carrot and quick as a bullet, she disappeared back into the shirt, carrot firmly in her teeth.
"She overpowered me," Alison claims.
A second carrot was dangled in front of her. Then a third. It's worth a reminder at this point that Gladys is not a small guinea pig. She probably weighs five pounds. But she normally only gets three carrots a week. So not only was she warm and snuggly, she had a steady and unusually robust supply of snacks.
Then, she found an even tastier treat.
"Gladys! No! Don't bite my nipple!" came the repeated call, accompanied by much dancing around. "Hannah!"
Some might have dropped the rodent then and there but Alex is a gentle soul. He cradled the thing with one hand to protect its fall, using his other hand to protect his parts.
For her part, Hannah paused while applying her third coat of mascara. She considered the situation, cocked her head and listened a while. Then continued with her application.
Getting Gladys back in the cage ended up taking all three of their efforts, and one more carrot.
I inquired if there was blood involved.
"Not from Gladys," I was told.
***
Alison and I had some shopping to do Saturday. Her for school, me for my niece Annie Strahla who's getting married. Her bridal shower is tomorrow so of course I shopped today. I'd planned to stick to her bridal registry list, but we started our shopping spree at Michael's for Ali's homework assignment.
While searching for part of Ali's shopping list, I stumbled across a really cool item that can't possibly be on Annie's registry (but should.) Two women were in the aisle talking up a storm. I took the item down, studying it while I mentally debated the ettiquette of going off the list. They didn't budge and were clearly devoted Michael's shoppers.
"Oh that's just darling," one of them said. (They turned out to be Bridget and Stephanie who goes by Jewell at work. We're very good friends now, and if Annie hates her gift, Stephanie/Jewell wants it.)
But it's not on the registry list, I reminded them.
"That doesn't matter. She'll love it. Trust us."
OK then.
On the way home, I was talking about Annie and that led to a story about her dog, Bo who once had a habit of eating her panties. He stole them from the laundry basket. (I think.)
"Were they nice underwear?" Ali asked.
"I don't know," I responded. "I know she never wore them again."
"Well she couldn't," Alison said.
"Oh, they came out again," I explained.
"Well she shouldn't," Alison said amended.
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