Disgusting is a 6-letter word

Which word, you ask? It's actually a name - Rascal. Rascal is a little boy piggy and little boy parts and grossness come with the territory. Time and again, I have lamented about the sticky residue on my carpet or the not-so-pleasant odor coming from the corner with the lamp. Well, my friends, nothing compares to what I experienced tonight.

A common affliction in older boars (males) is impaction. As the name implies, the bowel muscles become weak with age and, kindly putting it, things get stuck. One will then need to go in with a q-tip and clean out the bowels and give nature a little bit of assistance. Rascal is not really all that old in guinea pig life...approaching 3. He's a little young for traditional impaction and consequently, I had not really prepared myself for being nature's little helper just yet. Younger boars, when marking their territory or attracting mates, tend to drag their bottoms along while excreting their little boy juices (hence my sticky carpet residue and strong odors). Sometimes the excitement lasts a little too long and the stickiness dries up and leaves the little boy parts exposed.

Tonight, Rascal is sniffing around the front of his cage indicating he wants to get out and play. I pick him up and check his belly lumps for oozing (he has a few lumps that are common in pigs), which I do nightly. Imagine my surprise when I look down and find something was standing at attention and pointing right up at me! Figuring he was having a moment of piggy pleasure, I let him down for a minute or so, thinking it'll pass. Nope, no such luck. Upon further inspection, I realize that we have a situation of dire proportions. Not only did he manage to get his penis stuck, presumably from the above mentioned rituals, but he also must have tried to get it unstuck and it is now further complicated with poo and litter and other nasty elements. The poor thing isn't complaining or seemingly in any pain, although, friends, if I had a penis that purple, I'd be crying.

As fate would have it, my mother isn't around to sucker into giving Rascal a bath and I am left to my own devices to free Willy. The things that ensued, following the realization that Rascal had gotten himself stuck, really should never be thought of again and God willing, shall never occur again. Let's just say, following a nice soak in soapy warm water and a little bit of coersion, Willy is a normal pink color and seems to reside happily back where he belongs. I am not sure how complete my job was and intend to lather the little one up again once or twice more this week to ensure complete relief to his boy area. All in a day's work.