my tiny pigeon

The little one has come home and I DOTE. It's silly really, but I have never had a pet of my own for real and this one is a strange one to start with. Of course I couldn't get a hamster or a fish, those would just be too easy and too stress-free for the likes of Elise. I suppose I need this little pin cushion, maybe she will teach me to relax a little, although that has not proven to be the case. I feel like a new mom, utterly astonished that they let me walk out of the store with her in my hands, feeling completely unprepared even after all of my research. She is so cute, but I am not sure how many people would say the same thing. She pretends to be sleeping when she knows someone is in the room, burrowing into the corner in a manner that looks so uncomfortable. I am convinced she only stays that way just to pretend it is comfortable and scuttles into a different position the moment you leave the room. She sniffs everything, with her little pink nose that looks like a snout, head high in the air carrying her forward. She poops. All the time and on all things, mostly me, like she has saved up giant log of appreciation that she drops ever so gently onto my lap. She tries to scare you away by shaking and sort of growling, but once you pick her up her little face uncurls, her quills relax and her paws pad over you fingers. I have only had her home for six days so far and already she has cactus-ed her way into my heart.

people

I have these memories stored up that don't often get tapped into. What becomes of the people I don't get to see anymore, don't get to know anymore? It's often a wistful memory, which spurs vivid pictures in my mind, snapshots that make me smile slightly or grimace with a part of my brain. I hate some of those memories, love others, and some just make me curious. The curious ones are the ones that get stuck in my brain. They aren't even stuck for long amounts of time, but are just striking enough to alter my mood or shift my thinking.

There are some people I will never see again, that I can't ever talk to, and I wonder how they are moving around in their lives. I wonder if I changed anything about them, and what it was that I changed. I see the imprint of these people on me sometimes, mostly when I am unaware and get caught with such force that it is a wonder I don't think of them all the time. I think about them in their spaces, mostly small things like how they cocked back their heads when they were especially delighted or how their fingers fluttered so gracefully when they were nervous. I wonder if other people know those things about them, and smile when they see them on somebody else. I think then of the small things I have collected from the people that I still know, and it's like a private secret I get to hold. It makes me glad to know that I can have these moments, even if I can't have the people forever.

a new addition

I am resisting the new umbrella category I may soon find myself a part of once I get (or "adopt" as other people in this category would have me say) a hedgehog. I first found myself researching a group that I was both appalled by and about to become a part of when I began trying to figure out what exactly a bachelorette party should consist of. I have since waded through more pink, animated ring flashy, dancing penis debauchery than I would care to admit or for that matter remember. It was a weird world that I preferred to believe did not exist and yet it was the only place where I could obtain information quickly. I found something similar once I began researching hedgehogs. No, there weren't hedgehogs dressed in scandalously skimpy attire dancing around, and it wasn't even so much of the pink but there were other aspects that made me cringe and stare straight ahead while perusing for knowledge.

I had no idea of the world of hedgehog owners. It is an internet life rife with "Sonic's", "Quilly's" and "Spike's". People documenting with home videos of fifteen second clips in which only the owner could possibly tell what was going on. This world too has dancing icons, horrible ones that continuously run across the screen and change colors that no hedgehog will thankfully ever become. I came across advice such as how to decorate my hedgehog's cage that consisted of a fake bird feeder hung on the outside of the cage, a miniature welcome mat right near the door and a personalized plaque with the name of my hedgehog penned artful across it. You know, helpful since they are surely aware of not only themselves but also of the eating habits of winged animals they rarely see.

After a surprisingly dissapointing failure to secure a hedgehog from my local breeder last weekend, Carol and I have taken to moving our fake hedgehog around the cage, letting him play on the wheel, sip from the water bottle and nestle in his bed. Yes, I said fake hedgehog, and yes by mentioning that I suppose I risk falling directly into the category of owners that I so recently distanced myself from but hey, I'm not even an owner yet so don't jump to conclusions! I have a fake hedgehog that my dear friend Nora made for me as soon as I declared my desire to own one. It's the cutest thing, made of clay and paint and cotton and broken toothpicks. It used to sit in the window next to my favorite tree but in the wake of last weekend's disaster it has moved significantly up the totem pole of creatures in the household and now has a little home of its own.

I've hopefully come to a reasonable knowledge level by this point. Carol and I have come up with some DIY alternatives that will be fun to try. Currently our fake clay-and-toothpick little friend has a litter box crafted out of an old milk carton which seems to suit him (or her I suppose) just fine. We've big plans to be sure.

I feel like I should close with a hedgehog joke or haiku but I am sadly unprepared. Maybe next time.