paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- guinea pigs and doll buggies Today I did something I have never done before. I purchased a little brown and black guinea pig for a Christmas present for Quinn�s nephew Freddie. This quivering ball of fur is residing temporarily in a warm part of the kitchen. He nests safely in a large plastic tote with lots of bedding and little makeshift cardboard den. Pipsqueak the pup was quite cordial and even a bit excited at the scent of another four-legged in the house, no matter how temporary or tiny. Pipsqueak is incredibly kind hearted. He keeps trying to play with other species only to be rejected, especially those cruel outdoor cats. He thinks they are playing the mythical game of dog chase cat, only to have the cats stop, turn and hiss. These cats repeatedly reduce little pip to whimpers, leaving him with no alternative but to turn in circles and urinate. Poor mr pip. This business of purchasing little beings for Christmas gifts is nothing I have ever done before. But Jena said that she would wave her moratorium on new pets for Freddie so he could have a new guinea pig. Apparently, Freddie has been asking for one frequently. Guinea pig or a video game�.. Not being a mother, this sort of thing is alien to me. I have never before touched a guinea pig, let alone invited one into my home as a guest. Once, in college, I stayed in a house in rural Vermont with a young woman who had pet rats. We ate French toast and listened to the Sex Pistols while the rats carried bits of discarded paper back to their nest under her bed. And that night, I slept lightly, picturing a companion rat snuggling up in the bend of my knees. A long weekend was had by me, and I was so relieved to return to my own strange living situation in rural Vermont, which seemed far less strange after that experience. Because I think highly of Freddie and want to avoid giving him a big box of drag and dulldrum for his present, I decided to make the leap into the world of purchasing small little pets. The guys at the pet store, very macho guys for a pet store, referred to them as little piggies. Person to piggie, they are much more appealing than I anticipated. Cute little feet and ears, soft fur, and they gather themselves up sweetly. So, I purchased a guinea pig and now have the challenge of keeping it alive until Christmas Eve and getting it to Quinn�s mother�s house while maintaining the surprise. Compared to this adventure, the rest of my holiday preparations are routine acts of commercialism. This year, I regret that there was not to be too creative. For Beth, Quinn and I purchased our favorite comedies � yes, I do like the occasional comedy�and are making up an �institute� to bestow on each of them an �award.� We�ll right short essays about why we like these movies so much. Our hope is that they bring her some comfort while she goes through chemotherapy this winter. We�ll visit her in the spring and then we are already planning a little vacation for summer. I�m trying to remember Christmas of 1972. I think I can just barely remember it at my father�s mother�s house. She always had a tree with white lights and tinsel and lots of German wooden ornaments and Victorian glass balls. We were living in a horse pasture in a trailer without water or electricity and it was incredibly cold. I remember feeling warm at my grandmother�s house, holding my bare little feet out to the fire until they turned red. I kept overlapping my toes, one foot turned in front of the other, and then I would switch, stopping to wiggle all of my chubby little toes. I remember this because once I watched my younger cousin do the same thing with her feet on Christmas Eve, except, she was not living in a trailer in a horse pasture. It is something I still do, one of those inherited gesture types of family traits. For Christmas that year I got a doll buggy which I packed with my Pooh bear, my blanket )Bobbie), and my transistor radio. That doll buggy was a portable hideout on wheels and I loved it. I kept setting it up places, getting into my fort, and listening to the adults. I do not remember their topic of conversation, but, there are only three or four topics in that family. And no holiday is complete without someone saying, usually my grandmother, �Isn�t this the best Christmas ever? Ever!� 8:31 p.m. - 2002-12-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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