When depression and anxiety have not just pinned you to the mat, but rather rolled you up in it and discarded the whole mess behind some run-down building in Detroit, desperate measures may be called for. A few weeks ago I wriggled my way out of the mats and headed for the local animal shelter. At the time I wasn't sure if I needed to take something home or insist on being admitted.
One week earlier, I had a deliciously vivid dream about James "Sawyer" Ford from LOST. But that's a matter for another time. More to the point, around the same time, I also had a vivid dream about a guinea pig.
Considering how many guinea pigs I have shared my life with, this is no shocker. My four-legged friends frequently visit me in my dreams--which works out great, since I don't have to feed or clean up after them there. What was unusual this time was that I had never met this cavy before. His markings were entirely unique to me. His coat was a mix of brindle brown and white, with a large white stripe on his face. He was smooth-coated and very amenable to being held. I actually woke up smiling.
I had really not thought much about having pigs again once my last boys crossed the rainbow bridge (or jumped off it, or whatever they do) back in 2006. My focus since then had been on finding keeping up with my dogs, horses and the infernal cat. Yet I suddenly found myself thinking about this pig non-stop. Soon enough I was looking up the Dane County Humane Society on-line. [I remember quite distinctly that this occurred during a break from work.]
With a fair amount of suspicious trepidation, I went to their search site and typed in "Rodents for Adoption." Several white mice named for various European countries (Italy, France, Estonia) popped up. And one guinea pig.
Those of you who know me will be surprised to hear that I did not rush right down to pick this fellow up. I decided this was just my subconscious' idea of a practical joke. I wasn't going to jump back into guinea pig rescue after one bizarrely pointed dream. So I sponsored him on-line...for three days, at which point I started calling the Humane Society and all its outlying partners to find this pig. By the time I found him, he'd been adopted.
That's a good thing. We want homeless pets to be adopted. But now my engines were running and I had nowhere to go--a dangerous situation in my condition. I have bought horses in this state of mind.
Instead, I contacted the Wisconsin Guinea Pig Rescue, where there was no shortage of homeless cavies. I was soon promised a trio of boars from an overloaded shelter in Onalaska (near LaCrosse), WI.
While I was waiting for those boys, I noticed a couple new guys come into the Dane County Shelter. Amal (Arabic for "Hope") came home with me first. He's cute as SHIT and very friendly. He now lives in my office, sleeping the day away along with dogs SodaPop and Ginger Ale.
A few days later I returned for the last of his brothers at the shelter, during a tornado warning. The tornado was reported to be on the ground NW of me, headed NW as I headed SW, so despite the ominous clouds I made the trip. As I pulled into the empty lot of the Society, about 5 does watched me from the edge of the firs on their property. Calm in the eye of the storm. I did not have a camera with me, so imagine 5 differently sized does sandwiched between a dark picnic table and a stand of white pine, all in the pale yellow wash of a tornado-ridden sky. Pretty, isn't it?
I came home with 'Azoom (Arabic for "Determination"), but not until he had peed on me in excitement.
He also turned out to be estranged from his brother, Amal. After several bursts of fur-flyin' fist fightin' I had to put a partition down the center of their cage. As you can see, 'Azoom continued to live up to his name by trying every way he could think of to get into Amal's cage.
He did not succeed. Construction is now under way to expand their conjoined condo.
And yes, they all have Arabic names. That's for all of you who complain that I don't use my Arabic enough. I'm sure the FBI will be suitably impressed.
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