Thursday, September 8, 2005

Three hours, dear reader, three hours spent mucking around the trenches of pet care and, on a loftier level, thinking over the meaning of affection. Falfa, my slower guinea pig, has been feverishly itching himself recently, which in turn caused Le Pew to do the same. I thought this was the work of allergies, but mites may be the real problem. That’s what the Internet tells me, at least.

One coarse way to measure love, I think, is how quickly you’d drop some scratch to heal someone or something. The people closest to your heart? You wouldn’t hesitate to spend some money on them if necessary. A cat or a dog, even, may very well approach the kind of pricelessness conferred to friends and family. Complete strangers? That’s a little tougher. Sure I donated to the hurricane victims, except it took me a few days to pony up the desire to give. I’m pretty certain I waited too long to be a saint. Good thing that’s not a pursuit of mine.

Guinea pigs? I can tell you exactly what they’re worth. 32.99 plus tax at your local Petsmart. 50 milliliters of Ivomec–the treatment for mites–costs 69.99. That’s two brand new guinea pigs. While we’re on the subject of Petsmart, it seems I didn’t research thoroughly enough before buying my animals. The beasts they peddle aren’t exactly what you’d call “healthy” in layman’s terms, so you’re better off going to breeders, unless you want dormant mites as a bonus. Hell, if you do decide on Petsmart, you might as well visit a pet cemetery, exhume the companion of your choice, and leave a fiver on the headstone.

I disinfected their cage with tools galore yesterday, but in the end they were still itchy. I hemmed and hawed and finally decided to buy some medicine on eBay. Am I interested in healing the piggies, or do I simply relish the wholesale massacre of microscopic mites? Honest answer? Probably the latter.