The Barking of Tiny Dictators

On Love, Pet Tyranny, and Why I’d Die for the Cat That Pees on My Clean Laundry

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I’m starting to resent my pets.   There are six of them.   Let this be an airing of my grievances. A animal Festivus if you will. I will list them, starting with the smallest first.  

 1. Ozzie the hamster. 

Would it kill you to use the wheel once in a while? It is expensive and squeak-free; wheels don’t grow on trees.  Living with creatures that want to play with you (but not healthy play; healthy play does not end in death), eat you, or simply put you all (little) pawed up is difficult. I cannot afford hamster trauma or PTSD therapy.  Mine alone is already expensive enough.  Your hair looks like you used to play bass for Meatloaf.  It’s 2025, not 1983. 

2/3 . Mortimer and the other one—the two guinea pigs

I feed them daily—but honestly I have forgotten one of their names. This may speak to a distance growing between us.

Mortimer Snerd was one, but we lost one during COVID-19; I don’t think they would have vaccinated him anyway. So many sad trips to the forest with a shovel after hamster #3 or guinea pig #2 paws up. I walk down the stairs in the basement and hear you screaming for lettuce and carrots, like music little rodents.

I hope there is a pet heaven or at least something for dogs. 

In Switzerland, guinea pigs are social creatures and cannot be kept alone. But when there is a big age gap, this puts you in an endless guinea pig cycle. As to grievances, I am sorry. I didn’t know you didn’t eat meat, but you go through more hay, apples and cabbage than most real pigs. 

Your squeaking is very manipulative. I thought I'd stuff my bar fridge with cabbage just to shut you up, but that didn’t last long, and after the last beer and cider run, I couldn’t find much room.  I swear you hear me coming, and you just put this guinea pig squeak show on; it’s an act, it’s a con.

For creatures of your size, you crap a lot; at times, I have used a real shovel to clean out your run—far too much fibre.