I know ’tis the season for that song, but it’s not what I’m referring to now.
The other day, as I was typing away on the computer, I heard another clicking sound that didn’t quite match up. I lifted my fingers from the keyboard and the noise continued from the direction of Princess Piggy Poo’s cage.
Could it be? Was she? I had to be careful not to move quickly or noticeably for fear she would cease what she was doing. I resumed typing, slowly twisted my neck in her direction and welled with pride. It took all I had to refrain from jumping up and giving her a hug.
After about 6 weeks, Princess Piggy Poo figured out how to use her water bottle. It sounds silly, but it’s a big deal. Now I don’t have to give her the water bowl that spills and worry she’ll be dehydrated to death, never mind having to clean her wet cage everyday. The frightful image of her dry hacking while I’m gone all day at work has been erased and replaced with the fear that I forgot to lock the door and she’s being pignaped instead.
Training a guinea pig is no easy feat. It takes patience. Actually, that’s all it took because I didn’t do anything except leave the bottle hanging in her cage. I don’t know how Princess Piggy Poo discovered the water bottle. Maybe she was just bored and started playing with it, but now I hear her clicking away all the time—day and night, night and day, click, click, click, tap, tap, tap—music to my ears.