Sometimes I believe our animals choose us even though we think we have all the control. The past few weeks I’ve noticed billboards all over bus stops for Mr. Peabody & Sherman. The movie is coming out next month, but it’s based on segments from a 1960’s animated television program. The story is that Mr. Peabody, the smartest and most accomplished dog in the world, is sad and lonely and adopts a pet boy Sherman, whom he rescues from a group of bullies. Mr. Peabody and his boy, Sherman, have many adventures using a WABAC (pronounced “way back”) machine.
Sure, I may think I chose Princess Piggy Poo because of her pink ears, but what if she was the one who wanted to adopt me? Maybe her gray-eared sister guinea pig went to a home with grubby-handed children who don’t leave a radio or light on and, worse yet, keep her in an outdoor hutch. An existence with fickle children who love you to death for five minutes and then forget about you for five years may not have been how Princess Piggy Poo envisioned her regal existence. Perhaps she chose me for the lifestyle I would offer, or maybe Princess Piggy Poo sensed I wasn’t in a happy place at the time and put on her royal cavy airs the day we met in order to rescue Her Momma the Queen.
We base a lot of things on looks — who we date, who our friends are, the pets we choose — but if you think about it, looks are subjective. It’s really chemistry that brings us together. And, if that’s true, then I guarantee Princess Piggy Poo was the one who picked me. Because as my high school teacher, Mr. Boyd, would testify, I was pitiful in chemistry.