me and the guinea pigs

The guinea pigs live in a hutch with a large run in the back garden; despite living in the countryside they are never threatened by foxes - the rural fox being much too busy.  In the winter they come into the house as it is too cold outside and - joy of joys - they live in my bedroom.  I'm not an enthusiastic hutch cleaner so the smell is a bit rank, but you do get used to it.  But fortunately when summer comes they go back into the garden - Dad moves the hutch every day so not to spoil his beloved lawn.

The guinea pigs are allowed to roam free during the day; they snuffle around the garden with our two dogs who never try to bite their legs.  One day Peachy, bigger, four-legged and more adventerous disappears under the garden fence, towards the brook and then the field full of cows.  We hunt for him, calling his name - I want Nan to ask Doreen what he was called before he came to us - say his name wasn't Peachy - he might be confused and think we are calling another guinea pig.  He is gone.

Tufty is sad and his squeaks become fewer and fewer.  But one autumn day when the hutch has been moved back inside a plump guinea pig appears in the back garden.  Peachy has returned - obviously we know nothing of his adventures (despite what my Nan says we are unable to communicate with our pets), but I'm sure he had a good time.

Nan and the guinea pigs

One day Nan produces a cardboard box saying she has a surprise for us.  My parents exchange anxious looks.  Inside is a heap of straw that moves as if something is going to erupt from it (think John Hurt's chest in Alien).  Nan parts the straw to reveal a small furry bundle: a guinea pig.  Orange and white with black button-eyes and wiggling furiously.
'Cousin Doreen's got an Alsatian,' she says as if this explains everything.  The box fortunately was not big enough to contain an Alsatian - even a puppy.
'He eats anything that moves so I said I'd find a good home for this little chap'.
Mum and Dad don't want a  guinea pig, but know when they have met an immovable force.  The guinea pig is christened Peachy - another top-class animal name from me (Just as well I never became a racehorse namer or one of those people who think up paint names - Farrow and Ball would have gone out of business).
The straw continues to churn.
'Well, if you are going to have the big one,  you'll have to have the small one.'   Nan reaches in and pulls out a tiny guinea pig - this one is black and brown with a little caramel sprinkle.  He is covered in tufts of hair, not smooth like the other one.  Inevitably I decide to call him Tufty.

Nan puts Peachy and Tufty down to play on the floor.  Peachy zips around, but Tufty lurches drunkenly.
'He's a bit lop-sided,' says Dad, picking him up. 'Oh he's only got three legs.'

'Yes'  I know,' says Nan as if three-legged pets are nothing out of the ordinary. ' That's why I was telling you about Doreen's Alsatian, he bit the leg off poor little Tufty - so I couldn't leave them there could I?'