This is my little guy. His name is Woz, and if you have connected with me on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram you’ve probably seen a lot of photos of him lately. He’s become something of an Instagram celebrity. So I’m giving the people what they want!
Woz came into my life about a year ago. After spending hours on Pinterest staring at this little guy (who I believe is actually not a hedgehog, but perhaps an Australian echidna?), all of my rational thinking skills were replaced by this loud voice in my head that said, “GAWWWW” anytime I saw a baby hedgie. The boyfriend had grown up with a hedgehog around the house and managed to track down a local breeder, and so on my 22nd birthday, he surprised me with a hedgehog of my very own. I’ve actually already written this blog post about “the early days,” so I’ll stop writing it now.
What I really wanted to write about was how I became a “pet person,” because it was a development that seemed to happen overnight. But here’s the thing: I am spoiled by the most adorable, most loving, most low maintenance pet there is. I really had no choice but to be swept into this madness by his charm.
Sometimes when I’m alone in my apartment, I realize I’ve been talking to Woz for far longer than is socially acceptable. Even worse, that typically happens during the day, which means my nocturnal hedgie is konked out. He’s not even awake to hear me talking to him! (Like that makes a difference. See, crazy!)
But now I’m spending my evenings swiping through photos of medically needy adoptables in the Petfinder app and on Facebook. I’m emailing photo after photo to the boyfriend, knowing we’re in no position to bring more animals into our lives but THEY’RE SO CUTE and THEY NEED US. Insanity, I tell you. Insanity!
And now, gratuitous photos of my family’s dogs, Emmett and Murphy. At 13 years, Emmett is an old soul, our beloved Golden. He loves laying down on the patio in the sun and ignoring Murphy. When Emmett was bad as a puppy, my mom would shout “Damn it!” at him and when we called her out on it, she would tell us she had just yelled “Emmett” so she wouldn’t have to put money in the swear jar. Sneaky sneaky, Mom.
Murphy is less than a year old and was a rescue from RAGOM, Retrieve a Golden of Minnesota. He looks less and less like a Golden each time I see him and enjoys playing soccer, moving around the sod in my parents’ backyard and tearing the wallpaper off the wall in the hallway. He also walks with a goose-step and runs like a rabbit.