Oh hey blogosphere, I haven’t seen you in a while. Since I’m incredibly busy, I thought I’d post my first exercise from my creative writing class. The prompt was to write testimony (like court testimony). This way you can a) laugh a little hopefully b) think about what your pet would say about you c) not really, because that’s really corny and d) know what’s going on in my brain. Happy reading (I hope)
Also, as my friend Kraksy will attest, looking at pictures of guinea pigs makes me unnaturally happy. Here’s a guinea pig for you to smile at before you read (not my guinea pig) (aka the narrator)
Testimony of Cinnamon, a guinea pig
My name is Cinnamon, better known as Minnie. I hereby solemnly swear on all that I hold dear (namely, my water bottle, my crawl-tunnel, and my Food Dish which is always plentiful) that I shall now tell nothing but the truth.
It is indeed true that, as a small rodent, I have no long-term memory.
It is also true that thus, I have no memories which could lead to the persecution and/or prosecution of my Owner, she who refills the Food Dish.
It would be out of the bounds of my memory, then, to report that perhaps my Food Dish is not “always plentiful,” as previously stated. I would not recall days when the Food Dish was not refilled.
It would also be impossible for me to state that occasionally, though Owner is supposed to take her medication before she goes to sleep, she often does not sleep until the sun has again risen and thus does not take her medication until that time.
It would be highly improper of me, as I have no recollection of these events, to state that after injecting herself in the leg with the aforementioned medication, Owner just leaves the used syringe sitting on her table. Surely, she would never do something so irresponsible.
It has been told to me, since I would not recall, that I was named Cinnamon due to the fact that I was purchased with another Guinea Pig, who was named Nutmeg, called Meggie. I can assume, through knowledge of Owner’s intelligence, that she did not actually believe us to have been sisters. Having examined photos of the Other Pig, Meggie, I can report that we do not look like sisters at all. Her fur is an entirely different texture.
As I also have no depth perception, it would be hard for me to observe Owner’s actions in a way that would lead to valuable testimony. I have thus never observed Owner stating to her mother “Yes, I will clean my room,” and then proceeding to sit on her floor watching moving images on her keyboard and screen device while eating crunchy puffed grains. I also, of course, speak no English and would not have understood the discourse.
I can also, since I speak no English, not attest to many conversations between Owner and her mother which proceed as follows: the mother says “Clean the Guinea Pig’s cage,” and Owner says “Why? It looks perfectly fine,” while I, Cinnamon, wallow in my own filth. Owner, were I able to understand her, would never say such a thing, nor would she allow me to inhabit an unclean cage.
As Owner is a good Owner and takes care of me well, she would never allow the smaller human, also known as “Devilish Child,” to come into our cage, reach into my smaller cage, and pick me up.
Since she of course would chaperone these visits, were they ever to take place, she would never allow Devilish Child to squish my stomach for many minutes while laughing.
I would not recall, with my limited memory, times when Owner failed to fully protect my cage from outsiders and thus allowed the Medium Sized Mammal to swipe his paw through the bars of my smaller cage. Owner would never allow me to be put in such danger, and if she had, I would not remember.
Based on my limited recollections, which, due to my lack of long-term memory, have all taken place over the past ten minutes, I can assure the court that Owner is a perfectly fit Owner and should be allowed to continue to act as my caretaker.