'There is nothing more natural than a beaver.' by Kara
Tuesday, December 9, 2008 at 9:44 AM

Oh my God, I love pizza.

My personal regular? Ground beef, sausage, and extra cheese. No green stuff on my pizza. Philistines.

Gwen's personal regular? Well, perhaps we'll leave that a mystery for now. Let's just say she's developed a taste for something bizarre (but, I know for a fact, good) so she can always have a pizza all to herself.

So animals are crazy. I love mine, and I hate anyone who says that small animals (i.e. rodents) don't have personalities. Because mine sure as hell do. Humphrey -- not a rodent -- is kind of an asshole unless he's awake, out, and sees that I'm busy. In such situations, he attempts to relieve me of my socks. People seem much more willing to believe that hedgehogs have personalities. I guess guinea pigs come across as squeaking eating reproducing furballs. I mean, they are, but ...

What I'm getting around to here is that I can't wear my favourite frumpy Gwen-esque sweaters at home anymore because one of my pigs appears to be in love with them.

Noriko -- living up to her name by being aggressively devoted to her elders (mainly me) -- is the friendliest of the critters, to the point that I can let her out on occasion without fear of her diving for the most convenient dark corner and never coming out again. I was doing a bit of reading last night, some books Co-Writer lent me that are too fantastic to put down and thus going quick, and I let Noriko out to be stunned and appalled at the emptiness of the place.

After some initial confusion, she decided that the mid-move nature of the flat was all a bit much for her and came back to sit in my lap. This sweater is of the long shapeless frumpy kind, so there ends up being some overlap, and this is where she ended up sitting.

And turning around like a cat. And yawning and stretching and lying down.

And when I was done reading, I went to get up, and she glared. Ever seen a guinea pig glare? Co-Writer has. It is really quite disconcerting.

Said sweaters are a bit nice. They're made of that borderline velour stuff that ... hell, I don't know what it is, but it's comfy, and apparently not just to me. So when said sweaters are out of the wash, I'm going to have to watch where I wear them. Or just find some of this fabric and make her a little blanket to lie on when she's out of the cage.

Yeah. She's spoiled. She needs a Coach to come in and whip her furry little arse into shape.

If you have been, WOW!