I figured I would know what was supposed to fill the cage of my late rat, Red, when I saw the furry little critter. And if you just fell in love with the mug above, you’ll understand.
I didn’t expect to get another guinea pig, though the cage that Red came with at the shelter is technically a guinea pig cage. There was already the G-Pig caucus in my casa, Sen. Furry Reid (D-Nev.) and Rep. Piggy Hoyer (D-Md.). They fuss and fight over hay and have a stuffed elephant toy that they throw around. They’re a hoot.
And then I came across the little guy above. He had been kept in one of those little solo glass display boxes in a pet store for a year. A year.
He was super-skittish about being picked up but better at letting me approach and stroke the bridge of his nose than my other guys. And he’s just adorable — dulce de leche, I say, with strawberry blonde and ash blonde patches on white with red eyes. There’s just something about the little guy, a fiery spirit compensating for growing up in a tiny box.
I brought him home, tried to teach him to use the ramp in Red’s cage to no avail (I’ve heard I need to put scrap carpet on it to give him a bit of secure traction), and began introducing him to a variety of fresh fruits and veggies. And I needed to give him a good name.
Congressional rosters rolled through my head. And it struck me.
Sen. Bob Porker (R-Tenn.). And thus the caucus became bipigasan.
Not that their first meeting went especially well. Planning to keep the new piggie in his own cage and give him playtime with the other boys — as three boars in one cage could mean, well, fur flying — I held the first caucus meeting in a large bathroom with plenty of running space.
Sen. Porker charged after the Dem pigs and tried mounting each in a show of pig dominance. Long story short, he terrorized them and they peed on themselves. I soon had Piggy Hoyer (tortie) in my lap, comforting him, while Sen. Porker chased a screaming Furry Reid (black and white). I ran to the kitchen to get some cucumbers and tomatoes, hoping they’d all settle down with a little salad bar, but bipigasanship is a rocky road. Sitting on the floor with them, Sen. Porker would literally leap over my leg to get at the Dem pigs. I soon put the Dem pigs back in their cage — with the paper plate of veggies — and Sen. Porker back in his own.
Sen. Porker has zero fear of other animals or of, well, anything. He climbs in and out of his cage — I could leave the Dems’ cage open all day and they don’t climb the five inches down to the floor. I’ve let him run around the house and he gets going so fast he bounces. He loves dried fruit bits, something the rest of the spoiled caucus turns up their noses at in favor of fresh fare, and eats out of my hand. He’s finally learned how to take his chewable vitamin C and today was absolutely fascinated by his first strawberry.
Now if only they could agree on deficit reduction…