My love affair with the humble cavia porcellus started back in the early 1990's. The novelty of bottle-feeding cutesy baby lambs only to watch them being carted off for Sunday lunch had well and truly worn off, and being a very independent 7 year old, I wanted a pet that I alone was responsible for. My parents duly complied and along came Blacky, which looking back was a moniker only slightly better than 'Fluffy'. Anyway, our first week together was a blurry haze of carrot feeding and over-zealous cuddles, but I noticed she looked a bit lonely. Better get another one. One trip to the pet shop later and Blacky is popcorning round the hutch with Rosie, a sleek-looking Silver Agouti. However, I deduced that something was slightly amiss when Rosie started giving Blacky rather odd-looking hugs, and getting her out the cage I realised two things; one was I was going to have to think of another name, and two, I knew more about genetics than a grown-up in the pet shop.
Fast forward 63 days. Blacky and Rosie (now called Sammy to preserve his masculinity) had 3 baby balls of fluff, which I excitedly found on arrival home from school. Prince was so named as he looked a bit purple in certain lights (how I had picked up on the Prince-Purple Rain connection at this age I don't know), then Roger who looked like the Phil Mitchell of the guinea pig world, and Whitepaw, because, well, he had a white paw. So these were my first little cavy family, which I loved dearly until they all died off. Sammy had the worst luck, as a weasel got into the outbuilding he was kept in, and all I can say is I'm glad it was my Dad who found him...
When I was about 12, we moved to a big farmhouse with an outbuilding that I instantly visualized packed with wheeking piggies and rabbits. First came Mel, a rustic golden coloured Abyssinian, and yes, she was named after a member of the Spice Girls. Her Tortie & White husband Spike wasn't named after anyone, but when they had 2 boys I couldn't resist calling them Lee and Jimmy (If you've never been a 911 fan, never fear, you didn't miss much). Lee was a deep brown, timid little thing, while Jimmy was the spit of his dad and the much more headstrong of the two. They had 2 sisters, Alanis (isn't it ironic) and Ludo, named not after the popular board game, but a friends horse.
When they eventually passed away, I bought a pudgy-nosed chap called Randi, and that's when I started my addiction to Self Creams. Randi did so much more than sit and poop; he helped me with my homework (by eating it), and even assisted with decorating the Christmas tree (by trying to eat the tinsel). Sadly after a few years he got ill, and I bought him in one night during Eastenders to be with him as his life ebbed away. My mother, seeing how he was struggling to breathe, decided to assist by giving him some of her asthma inhaler, which finished him off just as the Eastenders theme tune kicked in. Needless to say, I was distraught, and a subsequent variety of cream guinea pigs never did fill the void that Randi left.
By this point I was reaching the latter end of my teenage years, so my obsession with piggies was put on the back-burner in favour of alcohol and boys. When I left home I couldn't have one in my flat, and my lethargic hamster just didn't have the same charm and appeal. Some people thought I was strange for liking guinea pigs so much at the age of 21, but I didn't care. A few months later, finding myself newly single after 2 years and living alone, I vowed to find my piggy soulmate. It happened one particularly hot day in March 2006, after about a week of mooching around pet shops. I had it in my head that I wanted another Self Cream, but then I spotted a beautiful black piggy with a white and ginger stripe down his head, wedged between two fat rabbits. I just knew I had to buy him, but I had just spent all my cash on getting a metal stud put through my lip. So I went home feeling a bit defeated, praying he would still be there the next day. As luck would have it, he was still there, so I promptly swept him up and took him home, completely forgetting to buy a cage until later in the day. Back at home I gleefully opened the box to reveal a very scared looking 10 week old piggy. Deciding I should introduce myself, I sat him on my chest and fussed him till he calmed down. After a while, he started chirruping, and then sat there chatting away for about an hour so I couldn't get a word in edgeways. I finally got to tell him he was going to be called Trent after the lead singer of Nine Inch Nails, and I got a chirrup of approval.
I soon grew close to Trent, as I spent all day every day with him and he provided the unconditional affection that I was lacking. He got an indoor cage right next to my bed, with a flaky log cabin that he soon grew too big for and a cuddle cup that he quickly learnt not to pee in. He preferred to sleep in my bed though, and often dozed off when wrapped up in the duvet. In more active periods, he was allowed the run of the bedsit, and would charge round the room in circuits, popcorning and pooping. He also learnt to tell me when he needed to go to the toilet if I was hugging him, so I could put him back in the cage. Around this time I discovered he adored having his chin tickled, and would stick his head up in the air with a cheeky grin. Any human males who came in were given a look of disgust and an attempted bite, which considering my taste in men, wasn't a great surprise. When I did get round to leaving the house, it seemed rude to leave Trent cooped up, so I would sit him in my bag and off we went; to my friends house, the corner shop, and even the polling station.
After a one-night-stand with a friend's guinea pig, resulting in 2 baby boys, Trent and I left the area in the summer to go to university. By this point we were inseparable, and when I had to spend 3 days away from him till Dad drove him down to my new room, I cried like a baby. We spent many hot days lying by the fan and a frozen bottle of water, and many nights watching Big Brother, me getting drunk and Trent attempting to instant message my friends on the laptop and drink cranberry juice out of the glass. When I finally started lectures, I decided it best not to take him with me. Shortly afterwards, I met my now-fianc, and remember feeling a bit worried as to how Trent would react, considering the only other human male he would tolerate was my father. But all went well, probably because he has salty palms which Trent would sit and lick all day if he could.
It seemed a bit unfair that I was all loved-up, so for our first joint purchase, we bought Trent a girlfriend, so he could have a long-term relationship. Somehow she ended up being named after a graphics card, but Nevidia was a pretty little crossbred thing, and very shy. Of course Trent had to wait until she was a little older to have his wicked way, but he did the gentlemanly thing and courted her in the student lounge for a few weeks before she fell pregnant. As the pregnancy progressed, Nevidia got so large she was waddling, and we were getting excited, as we thought there must be 3 or 4 babies in there. But when it came to it, there was only one. And it was huge. We named it Tarrie, though it more often got referred to as Stout.
By now Trent was away from the ladies in another cage, with only his Mason Cash dish for company, but he got to live next door to them with his new cage-mate, Hugh. Trent and Hugh fell out forever when it was discovered that Hugh had got Tarrie pregnant at a rather young age, so some C & C cages had to be constructed to segregate the warring pair. Tarrie gave birth to a girl and 2 boys, Jeordie and Hefner, named because he looked like his dad Hugh, a Pink-Eyed White. As Hugh was completely antisocial by the time the boys were weaned, it was decided that they would live with their Granddad Trent.
Only the three boys are left now; Trent reaches 3 at the end of this year, and shows no signs of growing old gracefully. He has taken on the role of both ringleader and food dustbin, and needs to know everything that is going on around him. If you get him out the cage and sit with him, he will tell you about his day. Jeordie is fast following in Trent's footsteps, with his inquisitive nature and tendency to fall out the cage because he's half asleep and hasn't noticed the door has opened. Hefner's' personality is somewhat dwarfed by the other two, but he can be pretty feisty if he's annoyed.
I would recommend keeping a guinea pig to anyone; yes they are ideal pets for children, but their varying personalities and loveable charm will appeal to all ages. Trent and all my other piggies throughout the years have given me love and laughs, with a minimum of poop.