As a child, I loved going to the bird market with my mother. She'd buy food for fish and canaries, and I'd be gazing at the animals for sale. Mice, hamsters, guinea pigs... There were cute kittens in a separate area, and there, on a bench, surrounded by potential buyers, a breeder of fluffy Chow Chows was offering unsolicited puppies for cheap. For me, the "bird market" represented the opportunity to choose a pet, receive advice and tips from the seller on care and feeding, and—what's probably important for many—pay significantly less than at a pet store or a breeder.
For a "live gift" to the bird market
My son had long been asking for a kitten, or even better, a puppy. But at a family meeting, we decided to start with a guinea pig. We decided to go to a pet store. There was more choice and lower prices, especially since we needed to buy a cage, various feeders and waterers, a house, and other necessities right away. This is a place where they sell pet rodents. Unlike the Soviet-era pet stores, the variety of animal species available has expanded incredibly.
Previously, the choice was limited to hamsters—red-eyed albino ones, white mice, and smooth-coated guinea pigs. Particularly lucky buyers managed to find Djungarian hamsters, and a chinchilla—that was the stuff of fantasy! But then my eyes widened: I'd never seen such a vast selection of guinea pigs alone!
Himalayan, Peruvian, American, Abyssinian—there were so many breeds on display, and I simply couldn't remember most of their names. I was especially captivated by the long-haired ones, such cute, hairy creatures... However, we settled on a short-haired animal for easier grooming.
I was allowed to hold one of the pigs. She was so plump and bouncy, purring and squealing so sweetly, and her little body trembled slightly, that I fell in love with her immediately. There she was, our "living gift"! The seller informed us that she was a girl, only 10 weeks old. "We'll take her!" we decided.
A month has passed
I thought the negative reviews about bird markets were written by breeders, who face stiff competition from "bird" sellers. They say they might even palm off a sick animal. But I wasn't choosing with my eyes closed: her nose and ears were clean, her fur was shiny, and her beady eyes sparkled. The little one was also plump—compared to the other animals in the cage, she was the most plump. She probably likes to eat. And a good appetite is a sign that everything is fine with the pet.
We named the pig Plusha. In four weeks, she'd nearly doubled in size—risen like a spring roll. Of course, she'd eaten so much! Everything was great, except for one thing: Plusha wasn't very fond of being held—she tried to avoid close contact at all costs. Oh well, we'll just have to watch her, as she holds a piece of carrot or a grain stick so tenderly in her tiny fingers.
Can't be!
Another ten days passed, and I began to notice that the pig was increasingly trying to lie low in her nest and was becoming less active. But since her appetite hadn't diminished, and had even increased, I decided it was too early to worry. Maybe we'd simply overfed her? Was it time to lose weight? Or should I consult a vet? Yes, I will; I'll go see her tomorrow.
But my plans weren't destined to come true. When I went to take Plusha out of her cage, I couldn't believe my eyes: scurrying around in the hay were what I thought were red and white hamsters! Was this a joke? I took a closer look: oh, they were two tiny guinea pigs—Plyushka's babies. She must have given birth while we were sleeping. And, as we know, guinea pig babies, unlike hamsters and rats, are born with fur.
What a surprise! I never would have thought something like this could happen to a four-month-old animal. It turns out that female guinea pigs mature very early, and if they aren't separated from their cages early, they can have litters at such a young age. We didn't even notice she was pregnant, because we never even picked her up, thinking she was just fat. So, we bought one, and now there are three. It's time to be a salesperson at the bird stand myself.
Instead of an afterword
My son, of course, asked us to keep Plusha's babies, but we decided against setting up a guinea pig farm. We gave the grown piglets away to friends. I won't buy animals at the bird market anymore—who knows what surprise might await us next time. What if, for example, a cute little lizard grows into a menacing alligator?
Valery
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