Danger Quest Mysteries

Salt “lick”? or Salt chew?

The guinea pigs love their salt lick.  Their teeth are like tile-snips. No wonder the salt lick looks so ravaged.  Yesterday I watched Schubert licking and chewing it. Then he ran to the water bottle tube and drank. Then he ran back to the salt lick. Lick. Water bottle. Salt. Water. Finally he stopped. Ludwig had been watching. Ludwig went over the salt lick. Then he went to get a drink.  By this point I ambled out of the room. The guinea pigs were quite sure I was going to bring them some red leaf lettuce and began squeaking with anticipation. I returned, however, without lettuce. They stared at me with disbelief. Did I not go into the kitchen? And was not there red or possibly green leaf lettuce in the kitchen? Then how could I possible not return with red leaf lettuce.  I tried to ignore them. Who is the boss?  They began to protest.  Little interlocutory squeaks became Wheeks and Whistles. Wheek, Wheek! We know our rights, the guinea pigs were saying.  I sighed and went back for green leaf lettuce.  Seeing it in my hand as I approached, the piggies were my best friend.  They ate it all in about 90 seconds.

In general, there’s a little more vivacity to their behavior…why? Spring fever, my friends. The weather is a bit warmer (60s F) and there’s been a lot of sunshine (despite the frequent rain).  The GPs feel it, and share their joy.

A few times a week I have phone conferences with my clients and their clients. I read market scripts to them all. My guinea pigs perk up when they hear talking and they want to talk too.  They are my office assistants, after all.  So, habitually, what I do is cut up several lengths of carrots for them right before the conference.  The second before it starts, I give them the food.  While I’m reading the script aloud and “with feeling”, I hear chew chew chew chew chew nearby. This week, right before the meeting started, I handed my assistants their office carrots… but the client didn’t show up on time… we rescheduled for later in the afternoon.   By that time, I had run out of carrots.  So I had to go through the phone meeting with nothing but hay for the GPs…  And to my surprise, the GPs forgot all about their carrot rights. Full of spring fever, they began chasing each other madly. Up and down the ramp, jumping, following and chasing. Fortunately they did not start clicking their teeth angrily at each other. Instead, they started doing that very pleasant burbling they do. My meeting went well.  And I picked up some more veggies for my staff.