WHADDYA MEAN SNOW?

 

SNOW?

 

SNOW?

 

NOOOOOooooooooo!!!!


 

Everybody gettin' mad, heh-heh.
No Easter bunny, just snow.
Even Vinny mad, Ha!


 

SNOW?! WRaGrrrrrrraGrrrrrrr!!!!


 

Calm down, spring will come.
(not really.)


 

WAAAAHHHRRRRGGGG!


 

ME, TOO: WAAAAAAAAARRRgggghhh!



 

Ma, you promised us an Easter Bunny
who'd deliver Vegetable Matzohs 
to our hay bins,
not THIS, NOT THIS!


 

Nobody sees me.
I haz HAD IT
with winter.

Happy Spring (not really.)
from all of us
to all of you. (really.)
love,
(((us)))

Song of the Open Road

 

"Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose."
~ Walt Whitman
"Song of the Open Road" 
from "Leaves of Grass"

Squirrel is OUT! Before him lie paths between cages to
explore, piggies whose scents must fill his lungs, hay
through which to forage, tunnels of flannel and sticks
through which to race!

O, Squirrel, I am such a fine boy! Poos to identify then leave
my own as proof I lived well and thrived here! Treats left
behind to discover and digest, my happy feet and curious
toes to travel throughout the Sanctuary in search of what
can never be found in my Habitat: FREEDOM!

Roaming is my Middle Name, Squirrel-Roaming my calling,
so off I go, naming some things, allowing more to remain
NameLess in essence for what is a name, anyway?
Only what people call things, but can "hay" define the 
taste, the texture, a long stem with a flower on the tip: 
a hay-flower Divine to eat, hay to chew, nosh, or - in
YumYum's case, hay within which to dig a burrow,
a burrow of comfort in his woven basket! It soothes him.
He remembers His Wildness from our Ancestors,
and when I am on the Open Road
I, too, remember them, for we are descendants from
the Andes in South America where we once roamed free
but not without danger -
We roamed in herds, they say descended from much
larger animals called Capybaras: I dispute this!
We are too perfect exactly the way we are to
have evolved from anything one might call "better" -
for there is no better, no worse, 
Here five guinea pigs live with our own quirks,
our own differences, our own individualities,
united in our love for one another, food, mom,
and 
The Song of the Open Road!
~
Thus spoke Squirrel

K.d. Lang - Hallelujah (Live Olympic Games 2010 Opening Cermony).avi

I am so sorry I don't know how to put this on so you can just press
"Play" to see and hear this. And the link doesn't work. 
I am leaving it anyway because this is what we listen to, what gives us the endurance to Keep On Keeping On: how we clean the guinea pig habitats and Runabouts when I am too weak to stand, too weak to sit up, too weak to breathe...this song BRINGS IT!
LISTEN TO THE LYRICS...I'm too weak to write them. Our friend walzed into the Vancouver Olympics ticketless only to get a front row seat the night she performed this. So we listen to it because of the Truth, that "Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah..." when I am elbow deep in guinea pig poo, wondering from where the energy will come to do what must be done each evening.  

Yet happy and grateful because this song always reminds me that when I fall, when I fail, still somehow the cleaning and chores get done and continue to be because somehow, somewhere, in that Great Mystery wherein we may sometimes hover in the worlds between Life and Death is a great and glistening, agonizingly pleading...and ALWAYS answered prayer for help: Hallelujah. We have a Sanctuary. We have each other. We have clean living space, 10 refilled water bottles, fresh hay, newly filled food bowls, anything and everything that needs doing, gets done. Since I don't know how this miracle sustains us in the exile of illness, HALLELUJAH!

GUINEA PIG MAGAZINE NOW AVAILABLE ONLINE! AND WE'RE IN IT! WHEEK!

 

EXCITING NEWS SPREADS LIKE LIGHTNING 
THROUGHOUT PANDA PIG'S PEACE SANCTUARY!
WHAT CAN IT BE?

 

PETER: "Bhindi, you look absolutely ridiculous in that crown.
Take it off before I - "
BHINDI: "Before you WHAT? Have you seen the latest issue
of Guinea Pig Magazine mom just got in the mail all the way
from England?"
PETER: "Not exactly. Did it come with that crown, because if 
it did, then I'm not sure I wanna - "
BHINDI: "WE'RE IN IT! WE'RE IN IT!
News more exciting than the Queen knighting me,
which, by the way, she DID!"


 

BHINDI:
"WE're on Page 24, on the bottom, just like this!
Kinda. Sorta...but before my knighthood, alas."


 

PETER:
"WHAT COULD BE MO'BETTER THAN 
US BEING FAMOUS?
WHAT?
WHAT?"
 

BHINDI:
"Yes, that's RIGHT! 
Guinea Pig Magazine has rocketed
into Cyberspace and is now available for
only...only...uh...mmmm...huh."

PETER: "What?"

BHINDI: "What is that funny "f" thingy?"

PETER: "OH, That's English for how much
mum weighs in pounds."

BHINDI: "Mum weighs f3,500 pounds? ICK!
(Everybody: "OOoooooh, when did 
that happen? Not to mention when did we
start calling her "mum" instead of "mom?")

EDITOR: "That is NOT what it stands
for, how dare ye? I drew my best version
of English pounds, 3.50, which is the official currency of the United Kingdom, 
which means SAVINGS FABULOSO since no
shipping fees apply!"

 Just pip-pip to the official 
website:
 www.guineapigmagazine.com
and you are THERE!!!
Check out the newest issue hot off the press:


 

SO beautiful and full of Guinea EVERYTHING!
Even an exclusive feature with Michael Bond,
author of Olga Da Polga!
SQUEEEEEEE!



 

My name is Squirrel and how much ya wanna
bet I get in Guinea Pig Magazine, too?
Just look at this face, how cute am I? Too cute!
Yes, that's right:

www.guineapigmagazine.com

where you can see Bhindi and Peter-Peanut
and even a picture of our living room
on page 8, but know what's BEST?
"The Beginners Guide to:
Catering for Guinea Pigs"
by Mary Hiles
FOOD! FOOD! GLORIOUS FOOD!


 

Our very own, beloved Taj Mahal 
graced the 2012 New Year's edition,
but that was the winter we tragically
lost so many of our brothers,
- Taj, Raj, lil'Calvin, MacNutPie,
...oh now mum's crying, so we'll stop 
naming every one of you but -

we love you more than words 
can ever say,we miss you so...
we always will.
~*~
This blog post is dedicated to All of You
upon whose shoulders we now stand,
who trained mom to be our slave.

And Alison, founder and editor,
but - most of all - friend;
Thank you for Guinea Pig Magazine!

Love,
All of us at PandaPig's Peace Sanctuary
So go check out us, me, our living room,
the NEW, HOT-OFF-THE-PRESS online magazine because it's
the ONLY ONE IN THE WORLD
that gives us a Voice and chance to
endear you to the subtle, wheeky Wonder of 
the Guinea Pig Nation!

Good Night, Sleep Tight, World We Love

 

Before we go to sleep at night there's
a little something we like to do first.

 

Personally, I loves me my midnight treat,
but I'm Peter-Peanut and each one of us has 
our "special rituals" like
Vinny crawling into his hay loft!

But this isn't what I mean:
What I mean is something we all do
together before we fall asleep, this
is what we do.

 

Thanks to our new Smartphone that mom
doesn't really know how to use as a phone,
we got some cool aps: GOOGLE EARTH,
The Weather Channel, World Time Clock,
you get my drift.
So, we say a prayer and send love to
everyone we know around the world
before we go to sleep at night!
We wish peace, love, comfort, and
that all our loved ones be healthy and
happy or healed in their illness or grief.
We ask that that God look after all
those we love. Or have loved.
Or have once been loved by.
And we forget a lot of names,
so we start at the West Coast and
work our way East...FAR EAST!
 

 

But mom's a Weather Geek, so it takes
THREE APS to make a prayer:
First we find out what time it is then
begin our orbit checking places and weather
where our friends live all around the world!
We GOOGLE EARTH our friends, like
Fairy, Pixie, Bear, Anita, & Ian in Appleby,
United Kingdom.
(And check to see if we have more rain
than them or they have more rain than us!)


 

We even found "The Thatched Cottage"
where they live on Google Earth! WOW,
DID WE GET RELIGION THAT NIGHT!

 

Then we say: "Good night Pixie, good night
Fairy, good night Bear, good night Anita,
good night Ian, good night all you hedgehogs
trying to keep warm in their garden."
And this makes us very, very happy!
Bear and Pixie came into Fairy's life after
they lost their precious Marigold, whose
memory they share in their most recent
blog post...
We also wish a very special, sweet,
good night to Ingrid in Bavaria,
who just lost her beloved Brownie two days
ago and send her lots and lots of love. Ingrid
and her Bavarian meeris (guinea pigs) mean
the world to us: Ingrid has three bright stars
tattooed on her cheek and we love her
and hope she knows how loved Brownie is
and how happy she must be to see all her old
friends again. We know how it feels...YumYum
is slowly moving into his New Beginning and it
is difficult, so our Good Nights remind us we
both love and are loved by so many.
But Google Earth and The Weather Channel
aren't nearly finished!


 

What time is it in INDIA?
How is your weather?
Sweet dreams (although you are actually just waking up)
to our many, many new friends from
The Times of India's (India's biggest newspaper)
"Speaking Tree" Spirituality section.
We have made so many beautiful, new
close friends writing with you this past year...

One of our dearest is Rashmi,
pictured below even though she
doesn't know it... yet! (OOPSIE,
Rashmi, you're just way too beautiful
NOT to include...)
She recently attended a wedding
and so you can see how dressed
up she is for some of the
festivities...and of course we
check the weather in India, too!
Rashmi, are you cold?
Your smile could warm the
snow right off the Himalayas
if Global Warming wasn't doing
that for us...We LOVE you!
 

And everywhere we travel in every time
zone, we have our Owl Friends,
our dear precious MODS
(Molly Obsessive Disorder) peeps to say
good night to! G'night, Owlie Peeps!
WE Lurves your gutz!!! Heh-heh!

 

These owlets are saying their own special
good night prayers...sacred with reverence:
"MOM & DAD BRING US FOOD NOW!"
(owls are nocturnal and feed at night)
but still, they can be saying "Sweet Dreams"
to the rest of us and we do believe they are!

How can you not love that
expression? Good night, owls.
Wherever you are on the earth,
whatever your weather,
Sweet Dreams...

 

COMPASSION IN ACTION

 

Peter And Bhindi Get THEIR TURN, at Last!

 

Finally, I AM FREE!

 

Hmm, this tunnel is kinda yummy!
No wonder most of it is aleady gone,
think I'll eat myself some sticks, 
yeah, that's it, Eat Sticks.
That's what Wise Pigs Do!

 

Wait a minute, Peter-Peanut, don't
eat that whole thing, let me outta
here, it's my turn!


 

Dum-Dee-Dum, Hum-De-Hum,
I don't hear you, Bhindi!

 

Hi Yum-Yum, how ya doin' today?

Every pig always pays respects
to YumYum when we get out on
Runabout! That old Pirate is all skin
and bones but he goes through THREE
ENTIRE HAY REFILLS A DAY!
And keeps hisself fit and fine, too.
{Note from Editor: YumYum has a
painful bladder stone, spinal spondylosis
meaning his spine has been fusing for
years, and until Squirrel came into the
herd for him to love, endured potentially
fatal seizures which ended following
Squirrel's arrival! He is probably over 90
years old in Guinea Pig Years but,
like Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones,
Keeps on Rocking & Rolling! 
Yeah, YumYum,
Alpha Male Chief PiratePig
 - and actually the second adoptee 
of PandaPig's Sanctuary, rescued and trained 
personally by
PandaPig himself!}
R.E.S.P.E.C.T. + LOVE = YumYum!

 

So, you hang out with YumYum
but ignore me, forgetting that
we grew up like brothers, Peter?
Oh, ye unfaithful friend!
Come on, let's play together.


 

Mom said it took a month to get
my teeth-marks outta your fur
last time, she won't let us anymore
cuz you got Big Man Parts that made 
you all bossy! 
I'm tired now though
and think I'll go home for a nap,
Mr. BIG-B***s!
{NOTE: he was too big to even neuter;
The vet had never seen
any manlier pig-parts than Bhindi's!}

 

Well, it's all good, I'm on Runabout
now, my Manliness INTACT, and
a happy, fat, affectionate pig am I!
{Editor: true that, but only
affectionate with peeps, not pigs.}


 

Hate to say "Good-bye" but mom
says it's not polite to eat with my
mouth full...
{Editor: "speak with his mouth full"}
So stay tuned for Next Time: when the
other pigs Get Out, Waaaaay Out!

Loves You All!
Bhindi & Peter-Peanut :)

Squirrel Potty-Trains His Sweet lil'Self!

 

Hello, why is it when mom brags about my potty
training all of you laugh? It's true! I did!
All by myself, too, you think any of those 
Pirates taught me? No way, they be bad!
So, 'dis here how Da Squirrel Does It!
ENJOY.

 

Well, who doesn't love a little
sumpin'-sumpin' from Mom
on Runabout?


 

"I DO! I DO! Let me out, Ma,
I want some, too!"


 

Peter, don't rain on my parade!
You'll get your chance but not
till I'm ready to go home first.
Down, Peter-Peanut, Down!

 

WHAT? I know a lil'piggie
who gonna get it! Squirrel,
you got potty-mouth, talking
to your elders like that!
Shame on you, little punk!

 

Ignore him. Watch now, cuz dis
is how I does it!

 

See? First thing I do, go to my potty
after Runabout. Know what the 
other pigs do? 
EDITOR: "Not now, sweetheart,
let's stay on topic, this is about you!"

 

O.K. Ma, right-right...so I goes to
my potty and I does my business
and mom - when it comes to cage
clean up time every night, you know 
what? Every night she coos:
"Oh, Squirrel, you take 5 minutes to
clean your cage. Why can't the other 
boys be just like you?"
Then she sighs...then she has to 
turn on music they wear her out
with the messes they make, 
but not me! I'm her baby Squirrel."

 

It's a fact, I have not grown much
but mom loves that I still look
like a baby. But after ya empties
da pot, ya gotta refill the tummy!
So, naysayers, guffawing readers,
DOUBTERS! See? I really did
potty-train myself, and I keep my
Habitat all neat, fit, and adorable, 
too: Just like me!
love,
WHO DA PIG?
(me!)

I AM BEING FOLLOWED BY AN ALBINO BENGAL TIGER...

, 

{Photo by Chatchai Somwat, Thailand}
NOTE: This blog post was supposed to be written on my other blog, HoneyAntDreamer but I wrote it on the Guinea Pig blog by accident because I have absolutely no idea what I am doing yet have no intention, nor the ability, to re-write it. I apologize in advance for it's content. It is DEFINITELY NOT ABOUT GUINEA PIGS.
IT IS, HOWEVER, ABOUT RESCUE.
OR NOT. 
DISTURBING ADULT CONTENT.
~*~
I am being followed by an albino Bengal Tiger named Parvati...she is inside of me, waiting for me to tell a story, not about her, but about someone else, someone she loves, someone she expects me to write about.

I already wrote about her. Last Sunday the Times of India, circulation 7.5 million (I think) created a two-page spread devoted to Nirbhaya, the Daughter of India, a young nursing student who had been  brutally gang-raped and murderously assaulted on a moving bus where only her own boyfriend tried to help but he was also violently stripped and beaten, thrown out of the bus with her to die as well. No one protected her. Did I mention this took place on a moving bus? If there are errors in my writing it is because my hands are shaking. I accept that.
Nirbhaya died, her Spirit did not: it pierced and penetrated its courageous self into the Heart of a country now asking itself: why? Just as we did last December 14, following the tragic massacre of innocent young 6- and 7-year-old children, their teachers, and principal in Newtown, Connecticut, all of whom died trying to save "their children." We asked why, we prayed, we grieved, and many with whom I blog on the Times of India were so incredibly supportive during that shock...I felt likewise learning about Nirbhaya, Daughter of India, who, despite having been raped and beaten into unrecognizable human carnage, from her hospital bed in Singapore as she lay dying, had the courage to tell her mother, "I want to live."

I wrote a letter to her, a prayer, the TOI printed it as part of a full, two-page spread Sunday, alongside a stunning piece penned by my friend Arjun Bala, with comments, quotes, and illustrations created to complete an unforgettably emotional, soul-searing memorial.
Until that time, I never knew anyone really noticed my writing. A senior editor contacted me for my email address explaining they had been publishing my comments and she wanted to send me a pdf (since, obviously, we do not get The Times of India here in Bellingham, WA, U.S.A.) but even I was not expecting the gut-wrenching, emotional, soul-searing, visceral reaction those pages would have on me...

That's when Parvati came into my life  informing me that Indian literature, film, and popular culture had to begin creating role models for and of young girls, children, and women as strong, courageous, equal-to-men individuals as deserving of respect and equality in Indian culture as men. Currently, they do not enjoy that status. I was not aware until then just how little they do enjoy when it comes to the perception many boys who become men think of females.
 I can't write about that.
Nor has Parvati asked me to. She has simply been following me along on my walks narrating a novel for young teens about a Warrior Princess of India whose sage tiger teaches her that for everything that had been taken away from her following her own brutal rape and attempted murder, a Gift was also bestowed and that she survived because she had a destiny, a future where this "fictional" teen Awakens from her own personal trauma knowing she was spared to protect and serve all others less fortunate than herself: people, animals, our Planet. It's complicated yet profoundly simple. This Phoenix actually does rise from the Ashes, Nirbhaya does live in this story, saved by Parvati, the Bengal tiger, who becomes her guru, much as Krishna was to Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita, as Obi-Wan Kenobi was to Luke Skywalker in "Star Wars"  this archetype that lives in our collective consciousness...and appears in so much literature, film, theatre, music, dance.
It's not new.
It is, however, new to me, writing this way.

I am listening to Parvati on my walks and quiet moments but the story chases away the Quiet in its insistence that I get to work already. And I don't know how. I have never experienced anything quite like this before in my life, a muse in the form of a wise sage, Parvati, stalking me like prey threatening to leave me without a moment's peace until I pen the first words. And just start.

Now my solitary time is not spent alone anymore. Even the guinea pigs know something Big is Going On when they see me - instead of write - pull out my large drawing tablet and begin drawing the Story of India's young Warrior Princess.

Which is particularly odd given that new health issues keep me from focusing my eyes, the migraines continue relentlessly to disrupt creative and most other endeavors, and I feel like: "God, are you serious?!"

I just watched one of my favorite authors,  Turkish writer Elif Shafak, on a TED talk. She wrote "The Forty Rules of Love: A Novel of Rumi" which I read a few years ago and wrote so much in that I could never loan it out: I talk back to my books, ask questions, scribble drawings, compose prayers, poetry, mainly ask questions, though...we interact, my books and I. Thank God for the printed page, may it endureth forever!

What will Parvati ask of me? I have a pretty good idea. She is asking me to do something I am one of the least equipped people in the world to do. Perhaps my job will simply be to learn a word processing program or draw a graphic novel and illustrate it myself, who knows? 

The only thing I do know, is how much I don't know. And that Parvati appears to be quite a patient, yet persistent tiger who wants to give meaning to Nirbhaya's courageous sacrifice.
~*~