Wheekyleaks

So, as most everyone who knows me is aware of, my last guinea pig Charley died about two weeks ago. Let me tell you, this month has been a blur. I am coming out of a weird period of my life, that is for sure. The guinea pigs were quite like people to me - I actually viewed them as little people with personalities and quirks and interests. Even if they were more of the simple variety  - like lettuce, chin rubs, and occasional trips outside the apartment. My biggest worry is people thinking, "Well, they were only guinea pigs." But none of them were - they were friends and family, too - and Charley was especially special. She was my little joy. I am not thinking of her as much, but it still sucks to see her blanket and stuffed toys and realize this little bundle of love is gone.  Charley was one of the most affectionate guinea pigs I've ever had in my lifetime of taking care of these animals, which started back when I was in grade school. And she wasn't so much like a

I lost all four of my pigs this summer. All of them. PBC, Smores, Penny, Poppy. To say there isn't a hole in my chest is a lie. I feel their absence constantly.  I have a new piggie I bought when PBC passed away weirdly during the night, Charley Bear. Charley Bear is a lot like PBC. Except she's a little more restless and a little more distrustful of people. But man, do I love my Charley. She's been a godsend for me lately, even when she runs off my couch and tries to divebomb my carpet (note: I rarely let her do that).  But man. When they say life takes, it takes. And to quote Sufjan Stevens, "And he takes, and and he takes, and he takes." And he takes.  Even objectively speaking I don't think I deserved this. To wake up to one pig dead. To come home to another passed away under her water bottle. To put down two pigs, one being the best friend I've ever known. I think life played some sort of cruel joke on me; take away her favorite part of life,

Recently, one of my super-talented artist friends  painted a portrait of Smores, my OG queen Beyonce guinea pig. My friend conveyed to me beforehand that she was attempting to make the painting's motif be "Smores as she saw herself. " I dug this idea, because I am 90 percent sure Smores doesn't see herself as a guinea pig. Maybe not a human, but I could very well see her imagining herself as a beagle. Actually, now that I have typed that, I realize Smores and Snoopy have a lot in common. But without further ado, here is the painting my very talented friend created - and I couldn't be happier with how this came out. Like, this IS Smores. Even my Mom called me to say "That's your guinea pig all right."  (For context, Smores literally broke out of my apartment around Christmas. I still blame my Mom for this.) Credit goes to Shannon Youso for this delight. As you can see, Smores imagines herself as an astronaut, a bandit, and an Indiana Smore

I feel that this tune by the New Pornographers would be it-

PREQUEL -  Read here .   (Yes, I really like the font Georgia, okay?! It reminds me of my careless youth.) I am a 29-year-old woman with four guinea pigs, or as I like to refer to them, my starter pack for not getting laid. This is not entirely an exaggeration. They are as follows:  -  Smores, the John Lennon. She was my first pig. She has been my best friend these past several years. Strong and sassy, she has a temper but loves to cuddle with me.  - Penny, the Blind Pig/Ringo Starr. She's super-neurotic, cries a lot, and tends to scream at anything that scares her (read : everything). She also yawns every time I pick her up and I'm still not quite sure why. I got her in 2013. - Poppy, the George Harrison. Why? Because she's chill AF. Probably because she's really old but all good. - Anddd PBC (short for Peanut Butter Cup), the Paul McCartney. I say  this because all the girls love her. And why would they not?! She's so tiny! She's like a chipmunk.