Guinea pigs are friends, not food. Unless you live in Bolivia, Columbia, Ecuador, or Peru, where they’re a delicacy. Or if you’re an animal higher on the food chain, which is basically all of them. But other than that, guinea pigs should be safe. Here in the middle of America, I thought our guinea pigs were free from predation. We don’t have the most secure house in the world, but it’s sturdy enough to keep out hawks and foxes, if not the big bad wolf. It depends how much he huffs and puffs. Hopefully he forgets his inhaler.
Yet somehow, even in this conditional sanctuary, our guinea pigs found themselves turned into food items, and on the night we opened our Christmas presents, no less. I couldn’t even blame the dog or any other quasi-domesticated predators roaming the neighborhood. The ones who put them on the menu were my kids.
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