Let Me Tell You About A Porcupines Balls

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

My Pet is Kind of A Dick

It's probably not nice of me to say so, but calling an apple an apple isn't really an issue of niceness. At least unlike with children, me (the pet owner) is not responsible for allowing my creature to act is such a way. No, if you're looking for whom to point the finger of blame at, the buck stops at...

Mr. Shittums
Mr. Shittums isn't really more than his nickname, but based on his attitude, it just sort of sticks. You'll immediately notice that one of his most noteworthy features are his random cowlicks of hair repeated a number of times over his tiny body, resulting in him being adorned with no less than four faux hawks. Personally, I think this makes him sort of 'look a fool', and I constantly remind him that he'll never get a job looking as ridiculous as he does. But still he does little to change it.

Apart from his embarassing, and rather homosexual hair style which he clings to like an old man to plaid pants, he has done a number of other things to confirm his idiocy. His actual name is Mr. Chuttersworth the 4th, as he's the fourth guinea pig I've owned in my life; but I've never known a guinea pig to be so obstinate. More than that, it's simply blind obstinence, that he gives for no apparent reason.

He continually will flip over all the wooden gymnasium-style toys that I buy for his amusement. He will simply get under them, flip them over, and leave them that way as a show of 'fuck-you-ness'. It's like having a miniature Vinnie Jones, covered in hair, living in a tub in my room.

Vinnie pig
And you can forget about trying to play with him. Heavens no, that idea was canceled after a week of owning him. While most guinea pigs love attention, and need it to form a bond of trust with their owners, Mr. Shittums does not need, nor does he want any of your kindness. He only wants his daily bit of vegetable matter, and some Timothy Hay, and then he says 'good day to you sir'.

On the subject of food, he has perhaps the worst resource management of any animal on the face of the earth. He gets his delicious, delicious hay everyday, yet on a daily basis his plan consists of consuming every ounce of food he can within 10 minutes, and then immediately go into emergency mode. I'm fairly certain that if I left him with endless food, he'd swell until he looked like something from the Critters movie.

His dream of being filled to the brim with hay
What he actually is
If you try to pick him up, or treat him in any manner that could be construed as a normal part of pet/pet-owner relations, he'll jump around like an idiot, kick his expensive hippy bedding all over my room, and hide under whatever item he hasn't flipped over that day.

Even more worrying is that despite the fact that he owes everything he owns to me, and my kindness, he still craves to possess more. Like a tiny Napoleon...or I guess regular sized Napoleon when you think about it, really...his appetite for destruction and claiming all my things as his own, knows no bounds.

I will routinely come home from a long day at work, where I bathe in radiation for hours on end in order to afford the bedding and celery to which Mr. Shittums has become accustomed to, only to find that he's hollowed out any of my food or beverage containers, so that he may relax and shit in them, while wearing down the batteries of my portable electronics for his own bemusement.

You're not even using that Nintendo! And where did all my Fresca go you prick!
I now sleep with a hatchet under my pillow, because in the back of my mind, I know that he's plotting my destruction. Although, with me out of the picture I fail to see how he would obtain a resupply of my things for him to ruin. I'm sure that fact is quite clear to him, so I'm not entirely sure that my death is his ultimate goal. All I do know for certain is that if I get water on him, or feed him after midnight, terrible, unspeakable things will result.

Plus, I'm fairly certain he's a communist

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