Our Travel Companion
We just went on vacation with Truman, by which I mean, in one fell swoop we became one of those “weirdest guests ever” stories that the hotel staff will tell for years to come. Would we have gone on holiday with our paralyzed guinea pig if there was another option? Of course not. But that’s the thing: No one wanted to give our guinea pig his 4 twice-daily medications or two nutritional supplements much less hold his hips in place and rock his weight from foot to foot as part of his physical therapy. So I begged Josh to call the hotel.
It had to be him. It couldn’t be me. First and foremost, half the time I’m not even capable of calling the local pizza place and ordering a large plain. Second of all, if I called them, I would start bawling, and the phone call would take several hours.
They were hesitant, but they said yes. So we packed up the pig, his hay and medications, the kids, their boogie boards, and a copy of The Cursed Child and headed for the beach.
Truman was a perfect hotel mate. He was quiet during sleeping hours (which is not always the case), and waited until he saw me sit up in bed before he started wheeking. He even waited one morning, staring into my eyes, without making a peep until I finished hitting the snooze button and rose. He liked watching the Olympics. He was very happy to get extra treats. And he turned up the charm when one of the hotel staff came in to meet him. (Her: “That is one large hamster!” Me: “That’s because he’s a guinea pig.”) They even let us have a later checkout since Truman couldn’t go on the actual beach and we wanted to go for a few hours in the morning.
All in all, a successful trip. And I could relax because I wasn’t worrying about him. We promised this would never happen again. Probably.
We finished The Cursed Child on the sand. We actually read most of the book on the beach. This embarrassed the Wolvog a bit because while he likes the voices I do when we’re alone in the house, he doesn’t enjoy my Umbridge or Moaning Myrtle in public. Josh reassured him that he couldn’t hear me from his chair a few feet away, therefore the rest of the beach was not going to be able to hear my high-pitched throat clearing for the professor.
But mostly the trip was nice because it was a chance to shut off my brain. It’s rare to really pull back and close off the noise of life for hours at a time. And I got to do that, with my guinea pig in tow.