Guinea pigs are heaven to eat
Posted by Fiona Nevile in Fun | 44 comments
Warning ! This post is not suitable reading for the faint hearted, it contains black humour.
Guinea pigs are a delicacy in Peru. I discovered that they are delicious raw.
One day I returned from my first wallpapering job to find The Contessa barking with delight from a pretty yellow silk button backed chair. Peeping out from a pile of cushions beside her was a tan shorthaired guinea pig with very bright black eyes. Not knowing quite how to deal with the situation I reached for the kitchen roll. My sister, who was with me at the time, couldn’t be bothered with my namby pambiness and pulled away the nest of cushions.
There was just the front of the guinea pig left. It looked as if it had been chopped with an axe. The Min Pins had eaten it, bones and all.
The next morning I woke to empty dog beds. Dr Q and The Contessa were out early searching the undergrowth. They spent all daylight hours in the garden for the next three weeks. They could smell live guinea pig but they couldn’t locate the mobile dish. This was because the other guinea pig had strayed into the front garden (the dogs have no access to the front garden).
I spotted the visitor a couple of days after the half eaten guinea pig episode. It appeared from the bushes when I opened the front door. A white, black and tan specimen that clearly was used to humans bringing breakfast. I rang Anne Mary immediately.
“What do guinea pigs eat?”
“Cauliflower, carrots, greens.”
This little fellow feasted on the fruits of our veg basket.
The next day he was there again.
“Can we keep him Danny?”
“No, we have too many pets. Perhaps we can locate the owner.”
I tried banging on doors. No one had lost a guinea pig. The next morning I warned the spotted creature of the dangers of wandering into the back garden. It stood quite still on small chez longe legs, small eyes meeting mine before it dragged the cauliflower head into the darkness of the brambles.
A week or so later, when the guinea pig and I were on first name terms, Danny and I passed a house with a smart hutch in the garden. The door hung open, inviting any GP with wings to fly up and roost.
“There you are, they must have come from this garden.” D pressed the doorbell.
“We’ve got a small guinea pig, living in our front garden and wondered if it belonged to you.”
“I’ve lost two! They belong to my daughter.”
“Well we just have the one.” Better not to mention the other.
She reached for a butterfly net, “I can catch him with this.”
The spotted guest didn’t appear for breakfast the next day so I stopped feeding him, imagining that he had been swept up in the net. I met the lady a month later.
“Did you have any luck with the butterfly net?”
“No. I returned several times without success. But yesterday morning, I looked up from my desk and spotted him sitting under the hutch in our garden!”
The prodigal guinea pig had returned.
Back at the cottage, my sister arrived with a present for the Min Pins. They unwrapped it with hunters’ glee. No messing with ribbons, just ripped the wrapping apart.
They attached themselves as one to this present. I beat them back to examine the trophy. It was a guinea pig toy, with a squeak. We christened him Snack. It seemed fitting in a ghastly sort of way
Snack is tossed aloft constantly. He still has a squeak, despite being abandoned in the garden on several cold nights. A living memorial to an afternoon of Min Pin foodie heaven. Inca loves this toy. She arrived well after the historic event.
Clearly late at night she has been told the tale.
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wow!!!! ok i apologise now, but sh#t happens, my cat once skinned my hamster, i was devestated but its animal nature, and i agree with the humour, its sometimes a way of coping with death, bet the upset writers are meat eaters ????
Hi Sally
Thanks for your input. Much appreciated.
To Michelle Sheets: ‘Very well put indeed’.
To Fiona, ‘I understand why you had to make light of this horrible situation and didn’t for a second read it as sick humour, but rather as a survival instinct of your own’.
To Mildred: ‘Please, please come back, we miss you’.
Hi Michelle
Thanks for dropping by and leaving a comment.
Hi Jackie
Thanks for leaving your response.
Michelle, yes, the guinea pigs owner was very careless and yes, it wasn’t the dogs fault that he followed his instint and attacked the guinea pig. What really offends me is the total lack of respect for the poor guinea pig, including the so called ‘black humour’. There is no place for it in these circumstances, no excuse for it neither! It is ‘sick humour’ end of.
Ladies and Gentlemen,
Death is a fact of life when you have pets, weather it is your pet who is a victim, or your pet who is victimized.
You need to remember, the owners of the guinea pigs should have been more careful making sure they didn’t get out. (I know, blame the victim, whatever!) If your read the entry, they were the tresspassers in this tale, the min pins weren’t out roaming.
It was a sad thing to happen, but I can completely understand the black humor, its a defence mechanism. Am I horrified every time my cats bring in a mouse, shrew or snake? Of course, (especally when I step on them with a bare foot!) Am I horrified when my dogs kill a mole or chase a neighbor cat out of my yard? Of course. But these are ANIMALS. No matter what veneer of domestication you want to cover them with, they have instincts, the most dominant one is to hunt. Cats and dogs are predators at heart and soul, you can train them to a fare-thee-well, but when a small darting target presents itself, you can’t blame a dog for responding to its instincts. They didn’t know it was someones pet.
And before someone rails at me, I have been the happy owner of (at various times) 22 guinea pigs, more dogs than I can mention, even more cats than I can mention, ducks, oppossums, fish, and a turtle. And not all of them have died of old age.
Things happen, its part of this odd situation we all find ourselves in called life. Thank you Fiona for sharing yours with me.
Hello Careen
I apologise for offending you. Point taken.
Five years ago 2 Rottweiller dogs scrambled over the fence at the end of our garden. Within seconds they grabbed our 12 year old Jack Russel. They ripped her to bits in front of me. We couldn™t do a thing to stop them “ despite my 6ft 3 husband doing everything he could “ our pet died a horrid, painful death. The memory will never, ever leave me. A matter of weeks after the incident the same dogs attacked a small child, while on their leads, in the street. she received deep cuts to her arm. The dogs were destroyed.
Two vile tales of dogs not kept under control. A memory I wouldn™t wish on anyone.
I was disgusted to read your tale. It doesn™t matter whether it is a Jack Russel or a Guinea Pig or a child, there is no entertainment value in relating stories like this. Nature can be cruel but you have made a misjudgement if you feel “black humour” is suitable justification.
Hi Sarah
Min Pin hunters can cause havock. Ours always want to bring their kills indoors like cats. We are not so happy about this habit.
Hi Jackie
I must apologise if this post offended you.
I was upset to see the guinea pig had been killed by our dogs. Similarly I don™t like seeing the foxes and badgers dead on the motorway hard shoulder. Living in the country, every day we are surrounded by instances of premature death. Cats killing fledglings, dogs killing moles, cars killing birds and game and rabbits and sometimes even people.
Our chickens are also mobile dishes. Similarly anything that strays into the garden on ground level, whether it be a frog, toad, rabbit or rat.
Black humour is prevalent in the country. I am sorry if this post upset you.
I just want to say how disgusted I am at your total disrespect for the poor guinea pig that died. No sign of you feeling sorry for the guinea pig, even making a jokes about it. Calling the dogs guinea pig toy ‘snack’ and ‘they could smell live guinea pig but they couldn™t locate the mobile dish’ is quite frankly, sick! You should be ashamed of yourself!