This is what greeted me when I got up yesterday morning: the rear end of the last of the prairie dogs (Cynomys ludovicianus) retreating down a hole that they had chewed through my offices’ wooden floor. I know that in this photo it looks like it's digging through dirt but it is, I swear, a hardwood floor with dirt over it. It’s sad—I thought that they were having fun with the Nordic Track and the extra-giant hamster ball I’d gotten for them. And I never once rolled over them with my office chair.
They were not willing, it seems, to evolve into a new species. Too time consuming, I guess. It wasn't as if I was asking a lot--they could have stayed mammals, even social rodents. I would have been content with a sub-species, for heaven’s sake! Maybe Cynomys ludovicianus computerofficus.
They had seemed content enough to hang out in my office, chewing alfalfa. They were cuter than hell in the mornings when they’d sun themselves by the sliding glass door. I spent the whole day scouring the neighborhood for a prairie dog village, but no luck.
So now there’s this hole in the floor and I don’t know if I should patch it up or keep it open. What if they want to come back? It’s quite chilly out; what if visions of heating pads begin dancing through their heads?
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