WHATCOM FALLS

WHATCOM CREEK IN SLOW MOTION

mom loves photographing water and has no idea how she got this image because she thinks it looks more like fabric.
waterFabric.

WAY OF THE GUINEA PIG: THE FLOW OF NOT KNOWING

Last April, mom took this photograph of Whatcom Creek, just down our greening forest path, on her birthday to celebrate living here.

Next month when April rolls around this will no longer be our home and we do not yet know where home will be.  Perhaps we'll  linger here a bit, but we no longer belong here and do not feel settled, safe or secure knowing the place will be up for sale.  Home, to us, means a cozy nest in which to melt as worries of the day fade into guinea pig laughter and a big, soft blanket full of cuddle time with mom.

In memory of water, we all agreed to relax and flow wherever nature takes us; nestling in gratefully once our destination is reached, for just being together makes us a family on the inside, and that's what makes any house a home: the oinkers! usn's! us and mom. and snacks. and a starry night sky filled with meteor showers that make even the worldliest of pigs go "wow." Yes, the meteor shower is the thing.

Thus, we embark upon the "Way of the Guinea Pig: Flow of Not Knowing" and will be updating you, dear reader, as our delightful journey unfolds. No doubt twists and turns will create drama and mom will spend long hours lying on the floor wondering about carpet cleaning; but this will also be the journey where we inhale Faith and exhale Fear.  Because meteor showers won't come out unless guinea pigs feel peaceful inside.

Love to you all, especially the salmon babies in Whatcom Creek, where this photo was taken. Their life's journey is far more dangerous and full of challenge than ours, and we wish them godspeed into the deep, dark waters of the Pacific ocean where they will grow into big, strong salmon, only to swim home again, spawn, then die in the waters where they were born. 

May we all be returned safely to our True Homes! So Sing! Meteors like that.

Good night, readers.
Good night, baby salmon.
Good night, flowing water.
Good night, stars, sleep well, one and all.

PANDAPIG's BEDTIME: OUT!

PORTRAIT OF MOM

Mom's bff, Susan, knitted this gorgeous felted bag for her and it matches the rest
of mom's Hip, Urban, Bohemian, Artist ensemble.

We really think it looks better out on the trail than walking down the street in town.

We don't have to wear clothes, or shoes.

That's why we like being guinea pigs.

We are free and can Runabout anywhere just the way we are, UNENCUMBERED.

But Susan really did a beautiful job on that knitting
AND

We'd love to snuggle in there.

Mom said: "Yeah, I'll let you guys in there when ******!"

Guess it'll have to be a stealth operation:
We're DETERMINED TO get in there and hide and cuddle and snuggle in the warmth of wool felt.

We're pretty sure you'll be reading all about it when we do.  With lots of **********because mom
can really have a potty-mouth sometimes, especially when it comes to our teeth being where they shouldn't.

Stay tuned for Operation Snuggle Sack!

"********!@#$%&?***OH NO YOU AREN'T!"

PANDA OUT!

BEAVER PIG

Dear Reader,

Have you ever woken up on a sunny day, stretched, climbed out of bed, slipped into your
favorite slippers, put on your favorite free trade, bird friendly, shade grown, organic coffee
and asked yourself, aloud or silently (it doesn't matter), have you really asked yourself:

"Why, how in tarnation did that guinea pig get named Bear the BeaverPig?!"


We don't know what tarnation means.

Mom is from the deep South. She suggested I put it in because she said that's how Southerners talk; they say, "How in Tarnation?!"
Or, "What in Tarnation?!"



 Perhaps there is a Tar Nation populated by Tars?  Dunno.
Southerners...well, they're different.  I'll leave it there. Mom's
friend, Jerry, still lives in the South and he wants a dormouse to
live in the owl box currently being checked out by squirrels.  Mom loves Jerry, we all do.  But we don't get his predisposition towards dormouses.(He even saw "Alice in Wonderland" movie- just for the dormouse!) 

Southerners! Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Even WE live with one: mom!

READERS: We aim to please! Since your favorite PandaPig is an obliging fellow, I have hereto-forthwith illustrated in living color just How in Tarnation Bear got the moniker,

"BeaverPig!"

Ever seen something like that in YOUR house? Of course you haven't!

He rattles those cage bars so loudly that mom can no longer stand the noise and reluctantly gives us extra treats to calm him. (Read: to calm her!)

We do not encourage this undignified behavior.  Frankly, we consider it ill-mannered, ungentlemanly,
and extremely unrefined! How DARE he?!  

So we whisper: "Hey, Bear, do it again: more treats!" He obliges because he's so proud of those
pearly-whites! Win-Win. Maybe not for mom, but who cares, because everything isn't about her!

It is good throughout the Land to have Bear in our herd! Go Bear! Go Tars! Go in Peace, with Good Manners. All of you, git! (another Southern expression: "Git! Git on, y'all!") It's past our bedtime, so git!


PANDAPIG OUT!

LITTLE PIG LONGS TO BE REAL

Nancy from Iowa sent LittlePig to the Santuary and he loves it here.

The only problem is that he desperately wants to become Real.
We tell him he IS real (not Israel, Is Real) but he demures.
Says he has a feeling deep down inside  that makes him feel
different from all the rest.

We know how that feels. Otherwise, would we have had to be
rescued? We tell him it's worse to be Real and have that feeling
deep down that you are different because nobody notices you,
feeds you, plays with you...when no one gives you love and snuggles.When you feel invisible, even if you know you are real.

Guess this is just the beginning of what mom refers to as
A Long Conversation.

Dear Readers,
Do YOU feel real? Have you any encouraging words for our
LittlePig? We really want to hear from you.

PandaPig OUT

BEAR READS TO LITTLE PIG AND BRINGS HIM A SNACK APPLE, TOO!

DUSK

Good night, tweety little bushtits,
Good night, bobbing buffleheads,
Good night, stunningly brilliant Wood Ducks,
Good night you loud Beaver, mom heard you near the
edge of the pond, crashing through last year's cattails, crunching & munching
Good night, SunWhoVisitedUsToday, thank you,
Good night BlueSkyWhoFollowedSun,
Good night light on the water,
Good night, YolandaEagle,
Good night, hungry robins,
Good night, blooming crocuses,
Good night, up-bursting yellow tulips,
Good Night, Daytime,
Come back tomorrow.
Love,
The World
Hey, little bushtits, come back tomorrow. Mom put out a new suet cake just for you!

Good Night, Gentle Readers.

PANDA OUT!

IS IT REALLY MONDAY?

Ascia (pronounce "Asha") our favorite bull terrier in the whole, wide world actually does not know one day from another but she said that
humans talk a lot about Monday with less happiness than they talk about
Friday, so she asked us why.

I went to ask Bear but he was under his turtle box because mom put a big pile of hay there so he can be a turtle and eat hay at the same time:
"IT'S ALL GOOD," Bear announced from beneath the box, hay dangling from his mouth like a loose cigarette: "HAY EVERY DAY MAKES LIFE GOOD IN  EVERY WAY! HAPPY BEAR!"
munch, munch.

I went to ask YumYum but he was busily rearranging his sleeping bag (he has two) so that he could slide down from his loft (sleeping bag #1 is up there) to the floor of his cage. He is quite the interior decorator, always moving his toys and things about to create new games to play all by himself when we aren't eating, on Runabout, cuddling with mom, or sleeping with our eyes open. We close them occasionally but only for a very short time.  It's an instinct from the wild because we have no natural way of defending ourselves from predation, so always on the look-out!

When we sleep with our eyes open, mom gets such a kick watching Bear because she can see his eyes twitching as he dreams of Glorious adventures only guinea pigs can dream about. Things humans would not understand because humans get serious about Mondays and we piggies get serious Never. Grateful always!

I went back to Ascia and lovingly explained that while days are all the same to us, humans give value arbitrarily to silly things and then react to them with Drama and Flair.  Perhaps the word "Monday" was one of those arbitrary things that give humans an opportunity to whine. Because we guinea pigs never whine. And dogs never whine. We are perfect on Mondays.  We are perfect Monday night and into Tuesday, as well.

Humans may say we whine, but they whine more. That's a fact I read in the book I am writing.

So what's up with Mondays? We don't get you people, unless maybe a little hay is missing from your diet?

well

WHO CARES? WE GOT FRESH WHEATGRASS FOR BREAKFAST AND MOM IS STARTING A NEW CROP: ON MONDAY!

SO WE LOVE TODAY BECAUSE IT MEANS FRESH WHEATGRASS NEXT MONDAY: ALL GOOD, ALL THE TIME HERE AT PANDASPIGSANCTUARY. 

even if we have to move and don't know where,
wheatgrass on Monday makes living a prayer.

that's from the book i am writing

PANDA OUT!

ANIMAL RIGHTS

"I believe in animal rights, and high among them is the gentle stroke
of a human hand."

-Robert Brault

WE COULD NOT AGREE MORE! Have you gently stroked your guinea pig today? You will be happier for it, we guarantee that!

Love to all of our dear readers,

PANDA OUT!

THE KINDNESS OF WHEATGRASS

"The kind man feeds his beast before sitting down to dinner."
- Hebrew Proverb

Or, in this case, breakfast! We have trained our slave to grow us our very own organic wheatgrass: The Ultimate Happy Meal! This way, From Farm-to-Table is a short distance of only a few feet: SWEET.

Mom's friend, am, calls our home "The Art Farm" so we continue training mom in the fine art of feeding us BeastieBoys before herself. We would take offense at the word "beasts" except we know in this context it means livestock, not guinea pigs. (OK, we are considered livestock in some parts of the world; most recently, in the Congo. But I'm not going off on a tangent...hurts too much to know some sweet guinea pigs are born only to be eaten.) Mom said not to sound like a radical animal activist, although I don't know what that means. She said we can only change the world from within ourselves. That Mahatma Gandhi implored us to "Be the change we wish to see in the world." Frankly, it sounds like IF WE DO NOT EAT PEOPLE, THEN PEOPLE SHOULD NOT EAT US! End of conversation, yeh?

Like,  if we cavies can impart humane values that we ourselves cherish, then we might inspire others to love all creation as their very own. And not eat us. Got that? 

And, yet...ok, ok, fine! I'll be honest.

If you've ever seen Bear and YumYum face off: they don't want to eat one another, but ahimsa (non-violence) does not appear on their agenda when teeth are gnashing wildly and clicking rapidly as they prepare to pounce upon one another and roll about in a screaming, squeaking ball of flying fur. That's when mom sticks her hand between them, giving innocent bystanders the appearance that we actually will, indeed, eat humans. Ask mom's hand!

Thus, dear readers, since I'm a lover, not a fighter, Life leaves it to me, PandaPig, the Kindly King of Gentle, to teach  Elder and Younger Pigs love, respect, and not to eat mom's hand since we espouse not being eaten ourselves.

We may need to dispatch our carrier pigeon to fly next door, requesting Her Pink Mousitude to visit our Sanctuary bearing her pink Message of Kindness to All Creatures, since I get no respect around here.  Except from Mom.  But, she doesn't get any respect, either.

At least it's dinner time! WHEEeeeeeekkkkkk !!

HAPPY WE! HAPPY YOU! HAPPY ALL!

PANDA OUT

YUM-YUM BRINGS HOME TAKE-OUT!