How my guinea pig got mistaken for a pumpkin which is an easy mistake to make

WARNING: Ever so slightly graphic images below. Mainly OK, but perhaps not suitable for viewing while eating a sandwich.

OK, so it’s coming up for hallowe’en weekend (or Samhain as I insist upon calling it – although I’ve given up on encouraging anyone else to pronounce it; ‘sewing’? ‘say when’? ‘sow-win’? ‘saaween’? ‘samin’? OK KIDS, AS YOU WERE, CALL IT HALLOWE’EN …. fooking heathens). Back in my day, (oh blimey, does that mean I have had my day? It’s been and gone?) it was barely mentioned but now it seems to be as big a soulless, commercialised, second-rate-pathetic-attempt-to-distort-and-hijack-the-pagan-festivals deal as Christmas, Easter and all the other knock-off celebrations purportedly ‘invented’ by the Christian church…. QUICK, GET DEBS BACK ON TOPIC, SHE’S RANTING……..

Oops, lost myself there briefly. Being the over-the-top family that we are, Linnie the Guinea (pig) has, like many small hoomans, embraced the completely false notion that hallowe’en’s a time for ghosts and ghouls to walk the streets, in the evening just before bedtime, and has taken it upon herself to masquerade as Frankenstein’s Pig for her part in the sphincter twisting embarrassment that is trick or treating. Here is her rather realistic costume! Look! Awesome wound there Linnie!

If you’re thinking to yourself that it looks more like the site of an operation to remove a cyst that had gone rather nasty and was oozing a thick, fragrant substance in such vast quantities that it might have been a portal to a parallel dimension where everything is made of cream cheese… then you’d be right. And as thrilling as it is to sport otherworldly gateways on your arse, it’s also a bit sore and uncomfortable so we decided to have it surgically removed. But it makes for a cool scar and the removal process was not dissimilar to carving out a pumpkin so the vet told me. Very topical. And Linnie Pig DOES actually look a bit like a pumpkin, well, more like a big ginger butternut squash if we’re splitting hairs, but aren’t they from the same family? Cucurbits? (There’s your big word for the day folks, don’t expect anything better than that from me, especially while I’m recovering from the shock of forking out for the op).

PostScript – a week or so on from the op and all is going well – until the little minx went and pulled out the end of her stitch!! Ggrraahhhhh!! Luckily the nice vet down the road, snipped off the protruding purple perpetrator and pronounced the wound as healing well and that it was the best hallowe’en costume ever.

Moral of the story: Frankenstein’s pumpkin lives!!

About the Author

Magickal Beanist, busy mummy, committed vegan, ardent recycler, obsessive knitter, recent jogger, animal lover, Cotswold dweller, ridiculous writer, attempts to live a conscious, magickal life by design. Enjoys a large glass of bubbly stuff at the weekend. And I'm not talking about washing up liquid if you know what I mean. Contact me through the website. Your reward will be good karma and a friend for life ;o)

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