Guinea pig dramas

I haven't blogged about the White House guinea contingent before so to bring you up to date - I started with seven guineas five years ago as an attraction for a business I shared with Alpha male and my parents (the 'attraction' was called Guineas in Wonderland and the guinea pig run and handmade houses were inspired by the book, including a washing line of mini guinea clothing in assorted fur fabrics around the Mad Hatters tea party ). Since then their numbers have dwindled to two and last week we lost the final female 'our Cilla'. That left Dudley, a grey rex cavy with rather a sweet nature, alone so I began searching for a new partner. As with the initial seven I chose to look for individual breeders rather than pay the extortionate prices at our local pet shop even though this always ends up backfiring when I spend a fortune on petrol driving here there and everywhere. Now something that I am beginning to discover is that behind their ordinary suburban exteriors guinea pig breeders all possessive certain scary attributes including waffling at length about their animals and a slightly disturbing way of interrogating you about your intentions. The breeder I had agreed to meet with last week bombarded my mobile with messages and pictures before I arrived for the handover. I was forced to lie on every occasion about the controversial subject of whether they would live inside or outside and the general amount of observation I would be giving them. Don't get me wrong, I care for mine but within reason having three dogs, five chickens, two cats and a horse that require my attention. I certainly do not tell them that when we are in The Croft, where they are currently situated, there can be at anyone time up to nine local dogs sat around their run attempting to intimidate them. I am glad to say they soon get used to this and even at times taunt the cold staring eyes, Kat xq