Issue #43
Thanks so much for tuning into Good and Beautiful Things each week. If you enjoy something you read, why not pass it along to a friend?
This week I wrestled with words, trying to get them into a shape that I could share with you here. Eventually I realized the writing project I had in mind needs more time to steep. You can see that I amassed quite a bit of words before the realization really hit it home. Even the peppermint hot chocolate didn’t help.
So I took a detour and swung completely in a different direction. I hope it brings a smile to your face. More likely, you’ll shake your head at this quirky family of mine. And that’s okay, too. We’re used to it.
As our wedding approached almost twenty-five years ago, the fever of young love silenced any questions about our compatibility. We didn’t talk about the important issues, like whether he was cat person or I was a dog person, or whether one of us didn’t like pets at all (me). Similar to how I thought I loved his electronic music when we were dating, I also thought it was fun that he owned two ferrets. Surprises awaited us both once we began life in the same apartment.
It was probably for the best that our love cloaked any warning signs along the way.
I met his family for the first time during the Christmas holidays the year before we got married. They told me stories about the farm where he spent part of his childhood, about how he would crawl inside the cage where they bred rabbits. There were photos to prove it.
When I met my in-laws they owned forty-six dogs, fifteen cats, an African gray parrot1 and two horses. Okay, it was actually four dogs and three cats, but it felt like a dozen. Aside from the horses, all of the other animals lived inside their small, country house. That Christmas I also learned that the extended family members all believed in the same policy for family gatherings—BYOD (Bring Your Own Dog). With all of the extra canine guests it felt like an authentic Christmas in a manger, or maybe a small zoo.
Some years I would try to count to see if there were more animals or humans present but both species moved around so much I could never get an accurate headcount. On that very first visit, one of the dogs peed on me which put me in the awkward situation of having to change into his younger sister’s pants.
None of this worked in favor of my fiance’s secret hopes that I would eventually love animals like he did.
As poor young adults in our twenties we ended up getting married in his parent’s living room and his cousin took the photos. Keeping with the family motto that more dogs are always better, her standard poodle attended the ceremony as well. Although the puppy was kept outside she made her way around the side of the house to the picture window, which happened to be just on the other side of the glass where we stood to say our vows.
In our wedding video it’s difficult hear the pastor or bride and groom over the constant barking in the background followed by the excited ring bearer who pointed and said “Dog!” over and over.
Soon after we were married the ferrets went to a new home to make room for a nursery. Before long I was busy taking care of one, then two, and eventually four children. My life was not bereft of creatures to care for or clean up after. I held onto the hope that my husband would just head to the family petting zoo any time he needed to get his animal fix.
In fact the grandparents allowed our youngest to claim one of their dogs as her own even though it continued to live at their house. I couldn’t think of a better arrangement than owning a dog that lived somewhere else. Maybe my husband will accept the same arrangement when he gets another pet. I crossed my fingers.
(For anyone trying to keep a headcount, by this time the in-laws had acquired four donkeys plus the extended family adopted two bearded dragons. The dragons came along with the entourage of animals for Thanksgiving one year.)
Occasionally my husband would mention his plans to own a dog one day.
“It’s going to be so weird when we’re living in two different houses,” was my reply.
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For fourteen years I remained strong in my convictions but eventually the five other people in my family wore me down. No, they did not convince me to get a cat or a dog.
We got our first guinea pig for our eldest’s 14th birthday. At the time we had friends who owned guinea pigs and the fact that the pigs were small and contained in a cage helped convince me to give it a go. Still, I worried that I would regret the decision.
The night of her birthday the six of us settled down to watch a Harry Potter movie and Pepper the Guinea Pig joined us in the felt bag that we’d purchased from Etsy. Somehow he ended up in my lap (confession: I asked to hold him).
Pepper sat with our family on the couch for the duration of the movie. Occasionally he would end up with me again and try as I might, I didn’t dislike this little animal.
And this is where the wall around my heart that I’d carefully crafted with bricks and mortar, began to crumble.
Of course we didn’t know what we had started. Child number two wanted a guinea pig for her birthday and then child number three. Who knew they came in so many colors and fabulous hair styles but what surprised us the most was how much personality was contained in these animals that were slightly smaller than a loaf of bread.
One was slow and sweet. One was smart and slightly naughty. One was afraid of his own shadow but he warmed up as soon as he settled in your lap.
When I started dealing with chronic pain and anxiety six years ago, my husband would notice the pain spread over my face and he’d say, “Do you need a guinea pig?”
I would nod and he would place Pepper in my lap and his empathetic presence would settle my spirit. He’d look up at me with his calm countenance and as I petted him my breathing would slow and deepen.
Even as I type these words I know I sound crazy to the majority of people out there. Sure, maybe a cat or dog can be an emotional support animal but a creature most often mistaken for a hamster? For some, just a shade over from a rat? But I can tell you it wasn’t just me, the pigs also helped calm my kids during stressful school situations.
By the time the pandemic hit, our first two guinea pigs had passed away. While everyone else adopted cats and dogs we adopted two more guinea pigs from a family that didn’t want them anymore. They came with a large rectangle cage that I like to call our guinea pig commune.2 Soon it felt like we were a few dogs away from becoming the menagerie I’d known at the in-law’s Christmas all these years. (We got even closer when we rescued an abandoned domestic rabbit last year.)
Because no one was visiting our house that first year of the pandemic we moved the pigs downstairs and watched these small, fluffy animals be great at being small, fluffy animals. The sight lifted all of our hearts that year while the world outside festered with sickness and anger.
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And that’s the story of how I’ve developed a tender heart for these creatures. I surprised even myself when I sobbed in the animal hospital after our rabbit died unexpectedly a few months ago.
It has also helped me empathize with friends when they lose a pet, something I couldn’t really understand before. And my friend who loves her chickens like we love our pigs? I understand that, too.3
P.S.-Just please don’t tell my husband that I’ve already picked out a dog I’d be willing to consider once our guinea pig era is over. I don’t want to get his hopes up too soon.
Continue the Journey
The one dog I might actually like is Beryl, the dog featured in Sarah C Swett’s newsletter. I love how the author shares Beryl’s thoughts in her illustrations. This particular post is told from Beryl’s point of view.
To continue on the theme of small animals, check out this article about a woman who helped solve her chicken’s health issues by giving her tiny shoes.
If you’d like to support the writing and art that I create for this newsletter, you can now contribute to my art supply fund through “Buy me a Coffee”!
Blessings from the Guest Nest,
-Aimee
P.P.S—Love dogs? Hate guinea pigs? I’d love to hear how animals have enhanced or challenged your life. Click on the comment button and I’ll see you there. And if guinea pigs aren’t your jam, just stay tuned for next week’s newsletter.
I later learned that my future husband was set to inherit the parrot, a species that can live up to sixty years.
Guinea pigs are wonderful pets but I would like to warn you that four guinea pigs just might be too many guinea pigs to own at one time. We are constantly battling the smell of their cage. I never wanted to be that person whose house smells like animal when you walk in.
But I will never, ever understand a sight I once witnessed when an owner and his dog shared the same ice cream cone. That’s a hard no.
I love this whole article so much 🥹🤩
Aimee … this might be my favorite post. :)
I love it so much. And I love you so much, and I can’t wait for you to get a dog.🙌🙌💜