Howeg came into my life in October of 1994. He left on December 26, 2002, when I had to put him to sleep. He was quite old for a guinea pig, and he had arthritis in his hips. When it got to the point where he could barely move, I knew it was time to let him rest.
Howeg was my furry delight, my angel, my bliss, my happy little manly beast. I adored him. He put up with all kinds of things from me, including the extreme indignity of being put in a salad bowl and photographed.
Howeg had many nicknames, of course, and all of them meant "I love you, you little ball of fluff." I think he knew that. He will be missed.
Long time since my last Howeg report. Let's see...
Howeg pulled a Ginge not too long ago. I accidentally spilled rolled oats in his cage, which too many will expand
in his tummy and kill him. I had just cleaned the cage before the spill, so I decided to vacuum the oats out. Put
Howeg on top of his cage, turned on the vacum, turned back to start sucking up oats, and ...
No Howeg. I blinked and looked again, because Howeg isn't afraid of the vacuum. Ginge was. Turned off the vacuum and
called his name. This little black nose pops out from under the TV cart. I called his name again, and his head emerged.
He looked around cautiously, then raced across the floor to my lap. "Ahh, safe!"
After soothing him for a while, I put him on a towel on the kitchen counter before I turned the vacuum on again. Big
wimp.
I've told him several times that he isn't allowed to die. So far, it's worked. Yeah, I know, that can't work forever. Howeg's well into his 8th year, and every year after 7 is bucking the odds. But thank G-d he's been with me this long! I'll take my blessings.
I gave Howeg his usual snack of a bit of celery, carrot, and cucumber, and he dove right in. CHOMP! He scarfed down the
celery and the cuke, then attacked the carrot. A big chunk of which got stuck on his lower teeth. Impaled, in fact.
I noticed that he was hopping around in his cage bonking his head against things, and picked him up. He tucked his chin
under and nudged it against the towel. And nudged, and nudged, and nudged, pushing and pulling and biting. This is not typical Howeg behaviour.
So I pried his chin up and there was what looked like a big, ragged orange growth on his lower lip. I stared, wondering
what on earth? Then I realized it was a chunk of carrot, firmly impaled on too-long lower teeth.
I grabbed the carrot, and, with Howeg struggling against me, managed to pry it off his teeth. I offered it to him to
eat, but he turned his furry little back and flounced off in an offended huff. "As if! It was perfectly fine where it
was! Interefereing busybody!"
No thanks. I get no thanks at all from that furball!
Last night I took Howeg for a walk outside. It was so gorgeous out I couldn't stay inside.
Oh, my, what fun he had! Little nostrils quivering as he sniff-sniffed at all the new smells, beady little eyes darting to and fro as he looked at all the strange things.
Complaining shrilly as we went back inside... "Wait! I was having fun!"
My poor little pooper went to the Vet's today. Oh, my. He did not have any fun at all. First the vet squeezed the wad of poop out of his -- er -- rear end (he hates that!).
Then she squeezed and groped him and grabbed his little paws and checked them, and opened his little mouth, and examined
his teeth (she recommended tough veggies like broccoli and carrots and more pellets, rather than grinding, bless her).
Through it all, Howeg tried manfully to get himself OFF THIS TABLE and INTO MOMMY'S LAP.
Howeg's butt problems are due to age, gravity, and loss of muscle tone that goes with being an geezer. The vet frowed at me and said, "Are you sure he's almost eight?" I told her I'd felt the same way and actually went back through my old check registers, and, yep, I got him in October of '94.
Afterward, one of the clerks at the front desk just oozed love all over Howeg, much to his alarm. Hey, once in a while, it won't kill him.
Howeg got his revenge when he peed all over me. Oh, the look of satisfaction on his furry face as I realized what he was doing! "Take me to the vet will you? Well, take THAT! Hah!"
Ay me. That piglet is too smart for his own good.
Poor old Howeg. It must be difficult to be that cute. Aside from me cooing "You're just so cute!" all the time, Nick and Olivia think he's the bee's furry little knees. Or something.
They came for a visit yesterday evening and couldn't get enough of my poor old piggie. I'm not sure which terrorized
him more, being picked up upside down by Nick, or having bits of broccoli attack him, instead of being nice inert foodstuff.
Yea, verily, the piggie was petted, skritched, cooed at, doted on, picked up in such a way that he was rather hanging upside down (I put an immediate stop to that), and fed broccoli bits.
Poor old thing. Somehow he manages to survive. I expect to be peed on sometime in the near future, though. He does like to get his little furry revenge.
Howeg sneezes frequently, but most often when he's on my lap. No matter what direction he's facing, he will turn his furry little nose at my face and SNEEZE! right at me.
Then he settles back down with a look of satisfaction on his face. "Put her in her place, yep."
This has earned him the nickname of The Howitzer. There's nothing quite like getting a blast of guinea pig snot right in your face to make your day. No, really.
Howeg's Trip To The Beach, or "What in Heck Are You Doing To Me?"
My person woke late. This is typical. She's forever waking up late and delaying breakfast as long as she possibly can. When she finally gets around to feeding me, she makes me beg for my food! Beg! Outrageous!
After feeding time, she wandered around the house doing strange things (what is with her and cleaning my cage all the time?!) and putting stuff in bags. And then, the moment arrived. The Pink Pet Carrier Of Doom made its dread appearance.
I was plucked from my too-clean home and trust into this tiny domicile. My person put me in the front seat of the car. I was certain it meant a trip to the Prodding Creature Of Doom, but after a few minutes in the car, I realized the trip had already lasted longer than it should.
We traveled over noisy roads, with noisy music blaring, and my person cursing up a storm. The other drivers must have ben really bad, but of course I couldn't see out the window to judge for myself.
We came to a halt at last. Everything smelled strange. Everything sounded strange. And there was this large person who kept threatening to eat me!
My person ignored me completely except to dump food in my bowl in the most dismissive manner imagineable. Worse was to come: I had to share a room with my person. She grumbled and complained at the least little, tiny sound I made, even going so far as to tell me to shut up! I was only remarking on the poor accomodations, for gosh sake!
The next day, I was once again ignored, except for the large person who periodically felt it necessary to threaten my life. I had just begun to understand that the large person wasn't serious, and was beginning to feel comfortable, when the Pink Pet Carrier Of Doom made its dread appearance again!
Once more I was thrust into its cramped confines, with a handful -- a mere handful -- of hay tossed in, and dumped in the car.
More travel. More noise. More cursing. On and on and on it went! Then, just when I was ready to scream with boredom, a miracle! We pulled into the garage.
Familiar smells! Familiar sights! My cage right where it belongs, not on the floor of some shabby house at the beach! Food arriving when it's supposed to!
I do not try to fathom why my person felt it was necessary to subject me to this rigorous voyage. I hope there will be NO MORE! in the future!
Never trust your person. Never, never, never. Just when they seem most consistent, they'll do something like this to you!
Howeg
You would not believe my person. Four days off she gets, and what does she do? Goes haring off to the store, then goes haring off to be -- as if! -- a guinea pig all afternoon.
The next day she lies on her stomach on the living room floor with half a dozen books open in front of her, scribbling madly, and completely ingoring the Gloriousness of Me.
The day after that she goes upstairs and makes funny clicking and whirring noises while muttering curses, once again ignoring the Gloriousness of Me.
And today? She dragged out those horrible Loud Howling Things -- at least she took them upstairs -- and thumped and bumped and thudded for hours, once again ignoring the Gloriousness of Me.
There are times when I wonder if she loves me as much as she says she does. Indeed I do! I am the most neglected, ignored guinea pig on the planet.
Oh, she feeds me, and combs me, and -- impertinent wretch -- cleans my home, and even sits with me in her lap sometimes. But she ignores the Gloriousness of Me! Constantly!
Howeg The Neglected
Or read The Saga of the Evil Piggies
Text, photos, and background Copyright © 2005, Darcy. All rights reserved.