I HAVE been at one with
the animals this week.
In fact, so at one _ you
could almost say I have
been at two.
Certainly, there have been
two definitive incidents, during
which experienced
unprecedented ``one-ness''.
By the way, by ``the
animals'', I mean the
menagerie of domestic pets my
wee family has accumulated in
the past few years. Two cats,
two guinea pigs, and a dog.
For someone who has only
ever allowed a cat into the
house, that's a menagerie.
Let's start with the cat
incident.
The cat's name is Zoey.
Zoey has a fur ball, and
therefore, an annoying habit of
occasionally vomiting after she
has eaten or drunk water.
I flopped face down on my bed
this week, and lay there, one side
of my face against the duvet. A
warm sensation and a whiff of
salmon touched my cheek. Sadly, I
had flopped face down in Zoey's
vomit, which soaked nicely into
my beard.
She would have done this five
or six times in the last month,
always on our duvet.
If the latest dose of cat laxative
doesn't work, we're off to the vet.
Via the drycleaners.
The second incident which
brought me close to the animals,
requires a little more background.
I have a soft spot for my daughter's
guinea pigs _ Mr Mo (short for
mohawk) and Mr Moo Moo.
Mr Mo indeed has a mohawk, I
am unsure of the origins of Mr Moo
Moo's name.
I am fond of these little
creatures despite Mr Mo once
biting me on the finger so hard that
I bled, and had to look guinea pig
rabies up on the internet.
Thankfully, no such thing exists.
Anyway, due to the recent
frosty nights and mornings, I have
taken to bringing the guinea pigs
_ who live in a hutch in our lawn
_ inside for the night.
This week, I felt particularly at
one with Mo and Moo Moo.
A glass of red wine and a couple
of chunks of duty free Toblerone
chocolate had contributed to my
sense of well being, and soon we
had the guinea pigs out of the box
for a cuddle.
By the way, my wife retrieved
the guinea pigs from the lawn the
first night we decided to bring
them in, and had panicked because
she gently poked them, and
they didn't respond. She
thought they were frozen to
death _ turned out they were
asleep.
Back to my story.
The guinea pigs went back
in their box and I rose up off the
couch, scooping up a couple of
chunks of stray Toblerone off
the couch and popping them in
my mouth.
Alas, twas not Toblerone.
I can state with some
authority that guinea pig poo
has a firm, fudgelike texture,
and a nutty, slightly muddy
flavour. It does not taste like
Toblerone.
Given my one-ness with the
cats and the guinea pigs this
week, I will be steering clear of
the dog this weekend.
