Fishers of carrots

After the untimely demise of our lizard Leo, my husband suggested it was time for a new pet. He was thinking of getting another lizard, since they are readily available in local trees, but I suggested we try another pet. Namely, one that does not require live food which it will eat whole with an obscene gulping motion. Or one that does not have eyes that stare accusingly at you, Mad-Eye-Moody-like, if you neglect to bring on the live sacrifices in a timely manner.

So, since lizards were out, we sought out other small pets as possibilities and settled on a guinea pig. He's cute, he's portable, and he doesn't eat crickets. Sold!

Joshua, who enjoys the "12 disciples" story, has christened our newest arrival "Andrew." Andrew now resides in his own luxury apartment and is fed fruits or veggies on a regular basis. He will accept apples but treats them with some disdain, tossing them to the side for a few minutes and lurking near the door as though hoping to get something better. Eventually he will retire to his tube with the apple and a "fine, if that's all you got" attitude.

Carrots, on the other hand, send him into a rapturous frenzy. Anytime we open the crisper drawer in the fridge he goes crazy squeaking. If we approach him with a carrot his decibel level increases, then apparently reaches a level at which only dogs can hear him.

And here he is: