So I’m out in the back garden doing a bit of weeding and I hear this…rustling noise from a patch of plants. Upon closer inspection and with the application of my hastily-emptied nail polish container:
An initial round of door-knocking to find his owner produced bupkis, aside from the knowledge that a Chabad rabbi - who immediately pegged me as Jewish - lives nearby. So I now have not only a guinea pig I didn’t want, but a dinner date with a load of Lubavitchers. Whoops.
Abyway: if anyone in Seattle knows why there are guinea pigs running free in the U District (a second turned up a week later, but unfortunately died), please do let me know. Animal Control were understandably more amused than helpful. In the meantime we’re keeping the adorable little bastard.