Dobby would have been 14 this year, not impossible, but extremely improbable.
I planned to make a Valentine’s Day post honoring Dobby on his birthday. All I did was look at old photos of Dobby. It reminded me of our times together, the way he would do things to make me laugh, the naughty things he did to get attention. So let’s do that, instead.
He’s eating my plants, but not before he caught my eye to make sure I was watching.
Bamboo flows from the bucket like a vegetative volcano.
He liked to drag all the blankets off his bed and set them up in a “better” location.
This is The Bartender, who walked all the way through the house into the guinea pig room where I was working, to show me how Dobby managed to plaster poop onto the outside of his potato bowl. Again.
This is how Dobby ate corn, and you better hold onto your end with a death grip. He loved to try to yank it out of your hand, but look at how he has eaten clear through the husk, silk, the actual “corn,” and the cob is falling apart. Looking at those floor tiles, we must have been at the vet clinic, so he was probably showing off for some pretty vet techs.
Who took the lid off the garbage can and why is it on the ground? Oh look- it’s the can with the bag of cracked corn in it!
Yessirree, Bob, that’s one day’s worth. In the wild it would look like guinea pig poop, much harder. Same quantity. Dobby still drank milk, and then there was all that corn, so his was not as firm and pelleted. Let’s move along, shall we?
Not as impressive as the poop, but in the summer, this was the amount of debris he tracked into the kitchen every day.
photo credits: Melanie Typaldos and Garibaldi
We loved him anyway, didn’t we?