So, I’m petsitting my friend Heather’s guinea pigs. They totally hate me (except when I’m feeding them). I fucking love them. How can you not? Just look at them! Plus, they squee in anticipation and delight every time I open the fridge.
They are often disappointed. Maybe that’s why they hate me.
Anywho, I’ve petsat them before, but never long enough that I have to clean their cage. This time, however, that all changed. Heather told me that I should change their bedding once while they were here and that I could just leave them in there and change it around them.
Heather clearly did not consult with the piggies when she came up with this plan. They were…not pleased.
I decided to to start by recruiting a helper. Said helper claimed to be busy.
Realizing it was up to me, I found a scooping device and headed into the fray by myself. It turns out that my scooping plan had a flaw.
And then I realized that I was actually going to have to touch the used bedding with my very own hands. This was not welcome news. Do you have any idea what they DO in that bedding?
I started at one end, scooping the bedding with my hands (*shudder*) into the box I had and then transferring it to a trash bag. The piggies cowered at the other end, trying to claim the shrinking area that still had bedding on it.
There was some panicked running in circles.
And these animals who are ridiculously hard to catch when I am trying to force them to cuddle with and love me, froze still in a sad little huddle as I tried to steal their dirty bedding and poop from them.
Getting that last little bit out was tough, seeing as how Cow had camped out on top of it.
Then they were sad.
I got to make them very happy by putting in fresh bedding and tamping it down. The return of their Pigloo made them even happier.
I felt so bad about the trauma I had inflicted on these poor little creatures that I gave them afternoon carrots. (They’re not supposed to get afternoon carrots. Shhh, don’t tell Heather.)
And then I frantically washed my hands.
Then, in an effort to cement our newly forged friendship, strengthened by going through such a traumatic ordeal together, I tried to pet Cow. And she bit me.
I should have seen it coming.
Confidential to Heather: Please don’t let this post stop you from letting me petsit your piggies in the future. They love me. We’re best friends. We sleep together at night in a big pile of bedding and shit. I promise.