The Taming of the Coup

This is Sir Prickles Erizzo Roly-Poly Scratcher the III. He is a male albino hedgehog roughly 6 months old.

Rizo and I met in August 2013. And it was not love at first sight. The night I collected him from his breeder, he had just experienced a 2 hour car ride coming from a farm in another state. In the 5 minutes that the breeder and I were conducting the final transaction, Rizo was an angel. Even after such a strenuous journey, there was not a single raised spike to be seen. As I walked away, cooing gently to this odd little creature that was to become a new member of my family, I thought to myself how lucky I was to have obtained such a pleasant, good natured hedgehog.

I was wrong.

From the very moment I set foot in my home and attempted to pick him up to place him in his posh new quarters, a war had been declared. The first week was filled with tears, blood and a whole lot of hissing. I ravaged the internet, trying desperately to find a solution to my prickly problem. Hunting high and low, scouring blogs and forums, searching for answers. All I found were hedgehog owners shouting praises of their adorable pets. Or manuals with no information other than ‘leave it alone. It will eventually come around’. Or behavioral tests that he failed miserably. I was constantly on the phone with the breeder, begging him to help me. Fraught enough to request a different hedgehog. Or even a different animal. How cruel you must think me. But this situation was not improving. It was getting worse every day. When the breeder assured me that Rizo was the best natured of his litter, I was so sure it was my fault. Absolutely certain I must be such a terrible person for this little animal to hate me so. I was convinced he could sense my frustration and in return had decided I deserved no love from him. I was at my wit’s end.

And then one day I decided enough was enough. This walking cactus and I needed to find peace to co-exist and I was done letting him ruin my life. I was so sure that this cantankerous act was all on the outside and he was caring and amorous in the inside. Even though a friend who was a veterinarian was very sure his attitude was caused by the fact that he was meant to live in the wild, I refused to surrender. And so began our journey to find harmony. This is how it happened.

Using several pairs of gloves and the thickest towel I could find, I gingerly picked him up and placed him on a chair. His immediate reaction was to ball up and hiss loudly. I patiently waited for him to calm down and come out. 5 minutes later saw a small pink nose slowly sniffing his surroundings. Deciding I wasn’t about to turn him into soup, the rest of him gradually unfolded. There he was, all 5 inches of him staring me in the face. That was the first time I had seen him properly in the light of day. As his red eyes glinted evilly in the evening sun, I refused to lose my cool and proceeded with my plan. With great care and heavy duty protection I gently lifted him and informed him that he was to be subjected to daily doses of affection whether he liked it or not. I addressed his bad behavior and the grief he had caused me in the past weeks. I told him that he had better start appreciating my efforts or the dog was getting hedgehog steak that night. On and on I lectured him, stopping only for breaths and an occasional hiss, which he was made aware that I could produce as well.

And that was what I did. Every evening after he had awoken, we would have a little tête–à–tête. I would talk about my day and he would hiss at me about his, occasionally spiking to make a point. But the situation improved in leaps and bounds. Within a couple of weeks I had learnt to pick him up with my bare hands without getting stabbed.
But not everything is hunky dory. There are days I am too tired to play with him and that results in a relapse. Our struggle continues and our ride off into the sunset seems further some days than others. But I refuse to accept defeat. I will make the grumpy little scrubbing brush love me, one cranky day at a time.
I leave you now with a photo of Rizo vs. The Toilet Roll. But that’s a story for another day…