I walk my guinea pig and you can't do shit about it

So far I've written about boobs, being too good at sex, and my dog's golden showers. I don't know where I expected this blog to go, but that's a bit of an alarming direction. My whole life is one alarming direction, perhaps. But today I'm gonna turn things around for some G-rated shit.

I have a guinea pig and I take her on walks, and I get weird looks but I don't give a shit because why should the dog get to be the only furbaby to take walks? Yesterday we went through the Yakima Arboretum. I stopped in the Japanese Botanical Garden for some pictures.

I got my guinea pig from my job working at a cheap motel in not-the-best neighborhood in Bellingham. I was a manager on duty, and had discovered an absolutely trashed room with food on the walls, clothes and luggage and dishes strewn across every surface, and a decent collection of drug paraphernalia. The housekeeper and I cleaned the room together, because it was one of those rooms no one should have to cope with alone. It took us a solid 20 minutes just to clear out the trash enough to begin even thinking about stripping the bedding off the mattress.

As I started to pull the blanket off, I heard a very distinctive "WHEEEK!" noise. Having owned guinea pigs in the past, I knew right away what it was. Immediately we began searching through the pillows and around the floor, where disturbingly we found mousetraps set and ready to spring.

"Um...Katt?" I will never forget the look of sheer horror as I turned and saw my housekeeper with her hands on the foot of the bed, staring wide-eyes at the blankets, her face pale with terror. "This lump just moved."

Layer by layer, I peeled back the blankets and sheets while the housekeeper kept the "lump" pinned. As I pulled back the final sheet, I noticed the distinctive football-shaped droppings -- at least a day's worth -- and a tiny, terrified golden-brown furball was awaiting. Pippin was about five weeks old and fit in the palm of my hand. I brought her home with me, because no way was I ever gonna give her back to that cokehead who abandoned her.

I attempted to harness train her because I once saw a picture of a guinea pig walking a dog on the Internet and thought that was funny. For one solid month we spent time every day getting in the harness so she could adapt and eventually be leash trained. At the end of the month, I had a guinea pig who excelled at getting out of harnesses.

So now, I take her on walks in a carrier. She has a shoulder-bag-style carrier and a rolling-luggage-style carrier. I get some weird looks, but people generally react positively to encountering a guinea pig on the trail.

I remember one lady came up to me from behind while I was walking her along the beach in Bellingham. "Oh, it's a guinea pig!" she exclaimed. "I kept seeing people passing you with funny looks on their faces and had to figure out what you were holding!"

Bellingham is basically mini-Portland, so it's not unusual to see people doing weird things like walking unusual pets there (the same park where that lady made the comment to me is where another women regularly walks her two pygmy goats). It will be interesting to see how Yakima takes to her. So far, people seem to love her here!