Poor, long-suffering man

Let's talk about my husband. My poor, long-suffering husband. He has to deal with me on a daily basis. He has a really rambunctious three-year-old. He runs his own business. He is the primary caretaker of our two "let's get up in the middle of the night, every night!" dogs. And now, he is the co-owner of two baby guinea pigs.

I could back up and tell you the whole long story of how we came to adopt two baby guinea pigs, but it boils down to this: Evelyn was driving me up a wall for the umpteeth day in a row, my crazy-brain meds were a little off the mark, I QUIT DIET COKE, and basically everything seemed really difficult...until I saw two baby guinea pigs for adoption at PetCo and decided it would be a really good idea to bring them home. And no, I didn't run this by Jon first. And yes, I am responsible for the little guys. The thing is, they are babies, and brothers, and I felt ineffably drawn to them. So...I adopted them. And bought their food. And brought them home. And we love them.

But they are guinea pigs--rodents, in fact--and it really is something you should run by your partner in crime marriage first. I apologized. Then I apologized again. Then he held the little buggars and announced that he did not hate them, but I had to be in charge because it is only fair. And he is right.

I think we've adopted two black abyssinian satin guinea pigs. Abyssinian piggies have weird rosettes (aka cowlicks) all over their body. They are soft and sweet and small (for now).

Now Blackie and Midnight (guess what color they are?)(and guess who named them?) are comfortably housed in Evelyn's room. They eat hay and pellets and leafty greens. They make squeaky noises that make Evelyn giggle every time. Once we move into our new house, we'll get them a bigger enclosure in a more public part of the house. They are very social, after all.

These aren't pictures of Blackie and Midnight, but you get the idea.