Alfalfa and Taxes

*sigh* "Nice job on the 'just a trim back there' mom..." - A

I hate having to do my taxes.  It is a tedious process that just sucks.  My friend Linda works for my school district and a popular tax preparation company.  She started coming over to my house to do my taxes.  It’s a cheap and efficient way to get this nasty task done.  Last year I did not have Alfalfa when she came over.  I rescued him during the month of April 2011.  So, having a free-range guinea pig around was a new experience for her.

Linda has a bit of a ‘hippy’ streak.  When she showed up to do my taxes, her long, black, straight hair was down and flowing from her head to mid-back.  Upon seeing this I remarked, “Wow! You got your hair cut.”  Shrugging it off she flowed past me in her long skirt and halter top.  I smelled her sandal-wood perfume waft behind her as I closed the door.  She sat down on my couch with a flush of skirts, hair, and beads.  “So,” she said breathlessly, “How are you my child?”  I felt like I was in the presence of a mystic goddess.

“Fine,” I said sitting to her left.

“Do you want a drink?”   She smiled at me with a ‘I know better than you’ look.  “You know I only drink all-natural-organic-straight from the source-water,” she breathed at me.

“I’ve got your stuff,” I said popping up from my seat.  “I went to the organic store in preparation for your visit,” I remarked as I stuck my head into the refrigerator cutting off the last part of my statement.  ‘Where the hell is that damn water?’ I thought.  The water, some natural organic source stuff, had cost $4.00 a bottle.  Spotting it I grabbed it and leaned back out of the refrigerator.  “Anything else besides water?” I asked.

“No,” she said looking at her nails with disapproval, “I’m on a liquid meal plan right now.”

“Oh?” I asked, “Like that European thing with the feeding tube?”

“No!” she said turning her nose up, “Mine is all-natural and safe.  And, I get to choose what all-natural-organic things I put into my body.  I won’t use a pre-filled-container of liquid death.”

“Oh,” I apologized, “That sounds natural…and good for you.”  I added, “Good luck,” stumbling over my words a bit.  I walked back over to the couch and sat down next to Linda.

Changing topics Linda said, “I see you have spread your interests into the naturalistic companion area.”

“My what?” I asked.

“You have a pet?” she asked as if it what she said was plainly obvious.

“Yes,” I said, “I have a guinea pig named Alfalfa.  I think I’m more of his pet than he is mine…”

“It’s true that they grow on us…” Linda observed.  “Where is the little thing?”

“Oh,” I said turning to look around the apartment.  “I’m not sure where he went…he must have bolted when you came in.”

“What?” Linda asked incredulously, “You’ve lost your guinea pig?”

I have gotten used to explaining why my guinea pig roams my apartment.  So, I no longer get angry or react to this type of question.  “No, he’s free to roam the apartment,” I said.

“Oh,” she bubbled, “He’s free?  That is just wonderful!  I approve, my dear!  Bravo!  Very natural arrangement…”

“Thanks,” I said with a bit of a smile, “It’s nice to have someone understand that Alfalfa is strong-willed and a bit wild.  That’s why I let him roam…”

“Oh,” she said, “I thought you were trying to do the right thing by him…”

“He’s a guinea pig!” I said with a bit too much bite.  “Do the right thing by him?  What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, dear,” Linda said patting my thigh in consolation.  I think Alfalfa may have heard our conversation.  He poked his head out from underneath the bed skirt. I saw him out of the corner of my eye.

Hoping to change the conversation I turned and said, “There he is!”

“Oh,” Linda cooed, “There’s the bugger!”  Now, let me explain something about Alfalfa before I continue…  Alfalfa is a pretty smart pig.  He can recognize words and commands.  That ability can cause issues around the house.  For example, there are several words that set him off.  ‘Bugger’ is one.  I think it reminds him of his previous owner and his old name ‘Buckley’.   He hates his old name and that word with a passion.  When he hears that word or his old name, he freaks out!

Alfalfa charged Linda’s feet.  He was in full rage mode.  His eyes were bugged out, his mouth was chattering, and his entire body was twitching.  “Pig,” I pleaded, “Calm down.”  His rage would not be abated.  He stopped just short of her feet.

Linda went to pet him.  “No don’t” I said grabbing her hand.”  She looked at me.  “He may bite you,” I explained.  “In fact, you may want to curl up your feet under you on the couch until his tantrum passes.  You only have on sandals and he like to bite toes.”  I turned to the raging boar below, “Alfalfa,” I said in my most calming voice, “Go back in your house and I will give you a treat.”  He was not convinced and let out a loud wheek of protest.  It was his battle cry.

Linda must have seen the crazy in Alfalfa’s eyes.  She quickly tucked her feet up under her.  Alfalfa started chattering his teeth and squealing at the top of his lungs.  It seems like Alfalfa has the ability to pierce ear drums when he is at his loudest.  He was relentless.  Linda put her hands over her ears to block the sound out.  “Alfalfa” I pleaded, “Please, guinea pig, calm down…”  He would not have it and started to do this “angry popcorn thing”.  It was not a dance of happiness or excitement but a dance of anger.  Twisting and writhing in anger, the poor thing yelled and yelled and yelled…  He seemed to have an unlimited supply of anger and frustration.  “Alfalfa, are you are good boy?” I asked in my most comforting voice.

Linda had enough by then and yelled, “Cut it out you stupid animal!”

“Hey,” I said in defense of my little baby, “Don’t talk to my guinea pig like that!”

“It’s just an annoying brat!” she declared and went to get up off of the couch.

“Fine, then,” I said, “You can go…” Alfalfa got louder in his squeals of anger.  He was feeding off of the situation’s energy.

Linda stood up and placed her hands on her hips, “You know that ‘thing’ is just wild and out of control…”  She pointed at Alfalfa and he jumped as if he had been struck by some type of invisible energy beam.

I stood up, “Linda, I love you but you don’t understand what that poor baby has been through…”

“It’s a guinea pig,” she said with barely controlled anger in her voice.  “It doesn’t have any feeling or remember anything.  It’s a stupid guinea pig.”  The squealing continued relentlessly…

“Ok,” I stated with as calm as a voice as I could muster, “You need to go…now.”

She turned and headed for the door.  I walked her over to the door and opened it.  “Have a nice day,” I said.  Linda walked out of the apartment and turned to say something just beyond the threshold.  Alfalfa darted from between my legs to her foot and bit one of her toes.  “OUCH!” she yelled jumping back.  “That damn thing bit me!”

“Serves you right,” I said.  Looking down to check that my guinea pig was back in the apartment, I slammed the door in her face.  “Alfalfa,” I said to the now quiet guinea pig, “I love you and I will always love and protect you.  You are my best buddy.  Let me get you a snack.”  I turned and walked towards the fridge with my buddy following closely at my heals.  I have never been so proud of my guinea pig…  And I have a new person to do my taxes.

Alfalfa’s Adventures would like to thank Garibaldi Caplin Rous and Melanie Typaldos for their support.  Please visit Gari’s blog at http://gianthamster.com/ . 

In Memory of Rudy

Miss Rudy the Red Nose Piggie

Miss Rudy the Red Nose Piggie crossed over the Rainbow Bridge today.  She was a sweet skinny pig at Copp’s Cavies Rodent Alliance.  This post is to honor her memory.  Please tell the special ones in your life that you love them.  And as always:  “Rescue First, Adopt Second, Don’t Buy, and NEVER, NEVER Breed.”  - Kerry Anne

Poop Wars – Episode Three: “The Poop is a Foot”

I am a high school physics teacher.  Some days I come home covered in dust and dirt.  My prep closet is dirty and my room can be even worse.  One day last week, I came home and literally ran for the shower.  As I ran, I threw clothes all over the place on my way to the bathroom.  I was fully prepared to jump into the shower by the time I got there.  Turning on the water, I got in, and adjusted the temperature.  There is nothing better than showing when you feel dirty and disgusting.  The water just washes away the dirt and worries.

I'm even cute on a bunny holiday! - A

After I was done, I dried and wrapped myself in a towel.  I followed the trail of clothes picking each offending article up gingerly between thumb and forefinger.  I did not want to get dirty from the clothes as I transported them back to clothes hamper.  My goal was to stay clean and fresh.  The task finished, I walked over to the couch to sit down and cool off from the hot water.  I sat back and relaxed.

I heard Alfalfa at my feet.  “Al-fi,” I said, “Do not bite my toes.”  There was no response and I did not see the guinea pig move away from the area.  “Al-fi,” I said with more intensity, “Do not bite my toes.”  I felt his fur on my bare right foot.  Sitting up very slowly I looked to see if my guinea pig was on a toe biting mission.  He surprised me by sitting down next to my foot with his butt up against it.  “Oh,” I cooed, “you want to foot snuggle?  What a good boy!”  Alfalfa paid no attention to me and continued to sit next to my foot.  I sat back on the couch satisfied that my guinea pig was not in a toe-biting mood.

A minute of two passed before I felt Alfalfa shift.  I thought, ‘Well, that was a small but nice snuggle.’  I sat up to acknowledge Alfalfa’s good behavior.  He stood and backed up a bit more over my foot.  ‘Oh, that’s so cute!’ I thought, ‘He’s moving in for a closer snuggle!’  Nope.  When he was adjusted to just the right position in his mind, he pooped…on my foot!  “Alfalfa Pig!” I yelled in alarm and surprised.  That noise made him jump and some pellets flew across my foot.  They must have been propelled by a sudden tightening in his sphincter.

“Damn it!” I yelled.  Alfalfa bolted for the bed.  I was left with about a dozen perfectly placed pellets on my foot.  To make matters worse, they stuck to my clean foot because they were fresh and moist.  “Yuck! Yuck! Yuck!”  I said.  I jumped to my feet dislodging several beans off of my foot and on to the floor.  “Great!” I yelled, “Now I have to clean up too!”  I decided to hop over to the shower on one foot.  Hop, hop, hop…  That was a bad idea.  I didn’t notice the pellets that fell off my foot leaving a bean trail behind.

I got to the shower and got in, again.  I turned the water on full blast running my foot under it to clear the offending pellets.  “YUCK!” I said again.  I turned to see Alfalfa standing at the door of the bathroom.  “Bad, pig,” I admonished.  He lifted his head up, snuffed at me, and walked back towards the living room.  I spent the next five minutes scrubbing, exfoliating, and sanitizing my foot in the hot water.  Feeling clean again, I dried myself and rewrapped the towel around myself.

I left the bathroom hoping to clean up Alfalfa’s mess.  The moment my right foot hit the carpet I felt a bean under my foot.  I felt the squish.  “Aughhhh!” I yelled and jumped back into the bathroom. “My whole apartment is  poopy-trapped!”  I looked at the bottom of my foot and saw a perfect pellet stuck to the bottom.  “Oh, no!” I lamented.  Using a tissue, I cleaned the bean off and flushed it.  I leaned around the bathroom door looking for the source of the beans.  The guinea pig was nowhere to be found.  I saw the trail of beans from the couch to bathroom.  It finally hit.  ‘I did that,’ I thought examining the trail, ‘Great, more to clean.’  I got to work cleaning up the trail of gifts that my guinea pig had given to me.  Alfalfa stuck his head out from the bed.  “Nice job pig,” I said to him, “Thanks for the gifts.”  He trotted over to me looking for a reward.  Eeping happily, Alfalfa accepted the proffered treat and went back to his own business.

Alfalfa:  3

Kerry Anne: 0

Jack the Alarm Clock

Jack is Alfalfa’s brother from another mother.  Although he does not live with us, we still consider him family and love him so much.  Alfalfa and I visit whenever we can…

 

My mom and I do not live together.  However, I love to visit her and my step-dad.  It’s like a second home to me.  I even have my own ‘room’ where I store stuff that doesn’t fit in my shoe-boxed sized of an apartment.  There are three cats at my mom’s house:  Jack, Bones, and Merck.  All three are rescues and all have their own personalities.  Jack is the most demanding, bold, and adventurous.  Bones is quiet, loyal, and cute.  Merck is aloof, a bit crazy, and guarded.  For some odd reason, Jack is almost always the one getting in trouble around the house.

Jack has many nicknames because of his personality and the trouble he causes.  Some of them include: “King Jack”, “Jack the Rat”, “Jack-O-Lantern”, “Jackers”, “Jack-Attack”, “The King”, and “Jack the Alarm Clock”.  That last nick name got him in trouble the other morning.  When Jack is up in the morning he wants the entire house up and at his beckon call.  My room is down stairs and I have learned to close my door to keep him out when I want to sleep in.  My parents are not so lucky.  Their bedroom is upstairs in a remodeled area over the garage in a master suite.   To access it you need to walk up a set of stairs.  There is one design flaw…no door.  The cats are in and out of their room at their own leisure.

My mom leaves for work without fail at 6:30 am.  She always feeds the cats each morning so they will leave my dad alone.  In contrast to my mom’s hours, my dad’s hours at work can vary.  He likes to sleep in when he can.  That is something that Jack will not tolerate.  Jack will walk on him, purr in his ear, lick his face, meow, and jump on and off of the bed to wake him up.  He has even resorted to knocking things off of the dressers around the room!

Jack recently figured out a new way to torture my dad in the morning.  It started one morning with a noise:  “beep-pause-beep-pause-beep-pause”.  As my dad got pulled out of sleep he tried to ignore the repetitive noise.  No matter how hard he tried it was not going away.  As he rolled over, he began to wonder what was going on.  ‘That’s annoying,’ he drowsily thought through his sleepy mind.  The noise continued:  “beep-pause-beep-pause-beep-pause-beep”.  After about five minutes of this noise, he couldn’t stand it anymore.   Finally waking up, my dad sat up in bed, and looked around for the blasted noise.  What he saw was so unusual and odd it shocked him and made him laugh at the same time.

Across from the bed in my parents room is a work desk.  My mom’s laptop is on the desk with her school work, office work, bills, and other important papers.  The area is strictly off-limits to the climbing cats…especially Jack.  However, this particular morning, Jack didn’t care about the rules.  The vat was top of the desk. My mom’s laptop was open and on.  Jack was gingerly taping the keyboard with his paw.  “Beep-pause-beep-pause-beep-pause-beep” went the computer in response to his paw taps.  Jack gave my dad a look of defiance as he continued to tap the keyboard.  Somehow Jack had managed to open so many programs, the computer would not allow any more to be opened.  Each time he hit the keyboard, it gave a warning that too many programs were opened already!  “Beep-pause-beep-pause-beep-pause-beep” it went as Jack went on tapping it.

Beep-pause-beep-pause-beep-pause-beep.  “JACK!” my dad yelled out.  “Cut it out!”  The cat continued his tapping… “Beep-pause-beep-pause-beep-pause-beep…”  “Jack!” he yelled again.  The cat was unfazed by the second reprimand.  My dad threw back the covers and got out of bed to chase the cat away.  Jack jumped down and trotted over to the stairs purring like happy kitten.  “That’s it!  I’m up…” my dad yelled standing next to the bed.  The cat started down the stair in anticipation of being feed.  “Damn, cat,” my dad moaned following Jack downstairs like a well-trained human.

One Obsessed Guinea Pig

Alfalfa having some afternoon grass...

All animals do some crazy things that their loving owns not only put up with but learn to love.  How many dog owners see their dog dragging its butt across the rug and remark, “Oh!  That’s so cute!  The dog has an itchy butt…”?  Or cat owners that have a dead bird dropped on the floor from their cat and say, “Oh! So, sweet!  The cat has brought us a present!”  All I can say is YUCK!

One of Alfalfa’s odder obsessions is with people’s toes.  His attitude is something like, “If it’s a naked toe, its fair game!”  Alfalfa doesn’t care whose toe he is going after.  He has nipped at my toes, my mom’s toes, my step-dad’s toes, my friends’ toes, and even my tax lady’s toes.  He never breaks the skin but you can tell that he’s gotten you.  I’m not sure if the nip even hurts or it is the shock of being ‘gotten’ that sends the shock from your toe strait to your brain.  Everyone always jumps and yells out when he does it.  All that is left behind is a person with a perplexed face holding their toe wondering what the heck is going on.

Alfalfa is a professional toe nipper.  He can sneak up on the most unsuspecting person.  One time my mom was visiting me overnight.  As she was getting ready for bed, she took off her socks and sat on couch.  I warned her, “Don’t leave your toes naked…the guinea pig is going to get them.”

“No, my toes are fine…” she responded flippantly to me changing the channel.

“I’ve warned you.  That’s all I’m going to say.  I’ve warned you,” I sighed.

“Duly noted,” she said changing the channels again. I let out a sigh and sat next to her tucking my feet up under me on the couch.

The rug in front of the couch is one of Alfalfa’s favorite attack zones.  I know this and tried to warn my mother of this.  I tried two more times to warn her.  She was having nothing of it.  I even deflected two of Alfalfa’s attempted toe attacks.  “Mom,” I pleaded with her.  “The guinea pig is going to bite your toes…”  She looked down at him sitting just off the runner in front of the couch.

“Not my Alfalfa!” she cooed to him.  He looked back at her with large ‘I”m the cute one’ eyes.   “Not that precious little thing…”  She went back to watching TV.  I got up and went into the bathroom.

I’m sure that Alfalfa’s moves were planned out and timed to coincide with my bathroom trip.  As I was brushing my teeth I heard my mom scream.  I jumped and hit the inside of my cheek with my toothbrush.  Dropping the brush in the sink, I ran out to the living room to see what the heck was going on.  My mom was standing on the couch with an incredulous look on her face.  “He bit me!” she yelled as she pointed at the floor.

“Who?  Alfalfa?”  I asked.

“Yes!” She panted.  “The guinea pig got my toe!”

“I warned you…” was all I could say.  “Is it bleeding?” I asked.  She sat down on the couch to inspect the potential damage.

“No,” she said with a grimace.  She looked up at me and said, “But you are…”

“Huh?” I said wiping the excess toothpaste foam from my mouth.  There was blood in it.  “Oh,” I said walking back to the bathroom.  I spit out the foam mixed with blood into the sink.  As I rinsed I felt the sting of the cut in my mouth.  “Ouch,” I moaned again as I opened my mouth to inspect the damage.  My mom walked up behind me and put her hands on shoulders.

“So, I’m the one that got bit and you’re the one with the injury?” she teased.  “Ironic…”

“Ha!” I said without humor.  “And I warned you.”

“I know…” she said kissing the top of my head, “You did…”

“That guinea pig is going to kill me,” I remarked as a spit out more blood out of my mouth into the sink.

“I know,” she said again, “And that’s why you love him…”

Dude, Where’s My Sock? – Part 3

Part Three of Three:  After a week, my sock was still missing.  I was tempted to have it listed on a milk carton.  But, then I was reminded by students that it was only a sock.  I went around my business that week with the thought of my missing sock in the back of my head.  One night I saw something white in Alfalfa’s mouth as he ran by the foot of the couch on a b-line for the bed.  “HA!” I yelled as I jumped to my feet, “My sock!”  Alfalfa was long gone by the time I got on my hands and knees to check for my missing sock under my bed.  “Dude,” I said, “I just want my sock back!” to the empty space under the bed.

"I'm telling you. That mess was NOT my fault!"

I went back to watching TV.  Nothing good was on and my mind drifted as I nodded off.  It brought me to an Alfalfa in Wonderland place.  I had a dream that my sock had fallen down some guinea pig hole.  It was running from me and Alfalfa was sitting on a mushroom smoking hookah asking me, “Who are you?”  Thank goodness Alfalfa’s loud protest for his dinner woke me up before I had fallen too far into that fantasy land.  Shaking my head to clear the strange visions from my head, I got up to feed the master of the house.  I went to the refrigerator, got his food, and feed him.  As I was walking back to the refrigerator, I noticed that there was a piece of white sticking out from under the bed.  My mind yelled, ‘THE SOCK!’  I fell to my knees and grabbed at the sock.

As I got my hand around the sock, two things happened:  First, I saw Alfalfa charging at me from the corner of my eye.  Second, I felt some sort of gooey, sticky, nasty substance on the sock.  Now, as you know from my previous blogs, I tend to be a calm person with understated reactions to many unexpected events.   In other words, I freak out quite easily at the smallest thing.  This situation was no exception.  I yelled, dropped the sock, and held my right hand up in the air like it had some foreign disease.  I truly wondered if I needed to call the CDC for a treatment protocol.   “YUCK!” I yelled as I sprung to my feet and dashed for the kitchen sink.

I turned the hot water on and shoved my hand under the water hoping to get the offending substance off of my hand as soon as possible.  “Nasty!  Nasty!  Nasty…” I kept repeating as I scrubbed my hand with soap, hot water, and a sponge.  As I calmed down, I noticed that the water was incredibly hot and I was burning my hand.   I yanked from out of the streaming stream of water.  “Great,” I mumbled as I inspected my hand for signs of burns.  I turned off the water and grabbed a dish towel.

I walked back into the living room drying my hands.  Alfalfa was standing next to the bed with the missing sock.  He looked ready to bolt if I made a move for him.  He was huffing at me in anger.  “Don’t worry,” I explained as I walked past him to the couch, “I don’t want that NASTY sock back anymore…”  Alfalfa ran under the bed with sock in tow.  I sat down to watch TV again.  I had decided that my sock was lost forever.  Several minutes later Alfalfa walked past me and over to his cage to eat.  “So,” I teased when he was past me.  He turned and looked at me with indignation, “I see you have a girlfriend…”