What A Mother Does

Here's Sam, indulging in his favorite hobby, admiring The Ladies next door:



Wheezy, that saucy minx, taunts Sam by "napping" in his sightline. We all know of her unabashed flirty nature.

Now, I've made it a goal to add to Sam's joy, but I'm not about to drop Sam admist the girls and just let mayhem reign. Or Sam Jrs. be created. The solution--putting Sam is a laundry basket and gently placing it admist the girls so he can admire them up close and possibly fantasize that they think him, besides benevolent, wise and powerful, quite studly. To help matters, I carefully spread hay around the tub, so that Sam can keep on believing in his Casanova allure.

This is what a mother does for her child, especially for her definite and unapologetic favorite. Now, if Sam were human, some might think this is the equivalent of buying Playboys for their sons--and yes, its true, that Sam does spend some special time with his stuffed animal after he returns to his cage, but that's between him and his teddy bear.

I prefer to think of the hay incentive as buying a corsage for a son's prom date. It adds value to the boy, but the boy must ultimately sell himself.

While Sam is entertaining, Jonesy is often put in his cage for a change of scene. Apparently, that isn't enough for him. After looking at the ladies and the laundry basket, he was entirely too disgusted...or jealous to pose for pictures.

Life is filled with disappointments, Jones. No use pouting about it.

Evil Prevails

While I'm mourning the end of the world, enjoy these youtube goodies:







When I get over my doldrums, my pigs may find themselves in an intensive training program. Clearly, sitting around, wheeking and eating are not only what guinea pigs are capable of doing. If I didn't fear for my own life, I would love to have kidney eating guinea pigs. Their placid and somewhat blank expressions really fit the cold-blooded killer profile.

The Border War

The border war between Gustavo and Jonesy?

The border war between Sam and J.J?

No...no...dear readers.

This Border War eclipses all pig tensions. It is a war that awes even those who fight over hay, pillows and igloos.

The Timid hide and pray but can merely wait for this battle to end.

This is a classic battle of Good versus Evil, Right Versus Wrong, Angels versus Devils, Civilized versus Barbaric, Groomed versus Filthy. Although not a battle specifically of pigs versus pigs, the latest chapter in this particular Border War will be a battle of the pigskin:

There is only ONE team to champion, dear readers:

Tonight, as you plan for your Saturday night revelries, mayhap filled with drunkeness, lewd behavior, acts of nudity and small thefts, please make this ONE choice for the purity of the nation. Before you leave for your night merrymaking, say a brief but heartfelt prayer for our stallwart men in crimson and blue, who go to battle tonight. Blanket them with your prayers of protection, so that you can continue to enjoy your carefree lives. Anyone reading this post who carries a torch for that team of black (and that's all I will acknowledge...BLACK), please save yourself. You clearly have a dreadful case of Devil-itis and must seek medical attention immediately.

Sam, the benevlolent, wise and powerful pig elder concocts a mighty spell to protect our men tonight.

The crystal ball glows with Lawrence in its belly. Good shall triumph. KU will be the victor.

Thanksgiving is...

a warm radiator,

an "Ahhhh, that's the spot", back scratch,

an electric blanket,

hay,

hay,

hay...and...

a life of leisure.

Its Tough Being 2 lbs. -- The Bathing Edition

The burden of being "wee" in a Big Kids' World is never more apparent than on those rare occasions when the pigs find themselves the victims of that most dreadful and dreaded combination--shampoo and water.

Since the pigs speak only Guinea Piglish (and this human is forever grateful), I can only guess at the meaning behind their wheeks. Good thing for the pigs no video exists of this most traumatic event. Only photographic evidence remains of the most foul, the most offensive violation of their guinea pig dignity...



Perhaps Ina's steely glare conveys these thoughts, "I'm rethinking my herbivore status, b****."

But since Ina failed her typing class, its left to the Human to interpret this expression, and the Human prefers these words, "I'm so ashamed, Human, that you have to take time out of your busy social life, successful career and many charitable projects in order to bathe my unsightly self. My Evil Eye is actually turned around and staring right back at myself in shame, but since I cannot physically do such a thing--well, without a Priest being called, glaring at you is my only option. In short, its me, not you."

Perhaps Wheezy Jefferson also feels bad about her Human's sore back, aching knees and wrinkled fingers--all for a day of beauty?

Clearly a look of repentance.