If you know me really, really well, you've met my Duder. He is probably the cutest, sweetest, loudest, hungriest man in my life.

Duder, friends, is my guinea pig. And I know guinea pigs are supposed to be pets reserved for sixth graders, but he's my rescued pet. My life is too up in the air at the moment to adopt a rescued dog or cat but an ex-co-worker was looking to unload his guinea pig at the Humane Society after having had him for a year.

"My my, why get rid of a guinea pig? They can't be very high maintenance," I asked, only to be told he and his friends had bought the guinea pig to get stoned with while they smoked. A year later, he still had the little rodent and had gotten sick of it.

I took him in and renamed him Duder. So don't think I'm just one of those weird guinea pig adults (these people are weird. If you Google "guinea pig", a lot of very bizarre blogs come up concerning people and their love of the animal and, sure, I like Duder, but wow - it doesn't compare to the obsession these people have) - no, I'm a girl who took a guinea pig in because she didn't want to see another animal go to the Humane Society out of inconvenience. See? I'm kind of a hero.

But it's taken over a year for Duder to even let me pet him - he's unreasonably skittish around humans. I've learned Duder prefers nose pets and to be scratched behind the ears but to pet his little body produces "I'm in pain," noises. Being around people really freaks the guy out and he starts chattering, as if to say, "Hear these teeth? Come near me and I'll cutchya!" And the little man does not like to be picked up. At all. End of story.

Now, I'm sort of avoiding the most obvious aspect of my guinea pig. To meet Duder is to think, "Holy crap, that's a big guinea pig." The little man is gigantic. I am not exaggerating - my guinea pig is sincerely obese. He came to me pretty big, but Jesus, I'm worried my piggy's going to suffer some kind of heart attack. Maybe he'll have to have a little foot amputated from undiagnosed, weight-related diabetes. I don't know! I think I made him fatter! He probably weighs the equivalent of a phone book and you know that can't be right.

So I bought him one of those big plastic balls to run around in. It's about the size of one of those medicine balls you work out with, which seems really appropriate. I came home with the plastic ball feeling triumphant - my little Duder was going to work out! After three or four minutes of wrestling him into the ball, I clasp it shut and watch for him to jog around the room.

Yeah, no. Duder just laid down. He thinks of the ball as a big plastic hammock.

So I thought of maybe putting Duder on a diet. And, yeah, I actually found guinea pig diet food. Don't ask. But the little man refused to eat it, loudly proclaiming his resentment and dislike of the food with chirping "wheek" sounds. And me, feeling awful, switched back to the old food.

And lately, I've just been feeding him smaller portions. That works for people, right? We just eat smaller portions and that's supposed to help us lose weight? I guess I'm asking for some help here, people. I don't know if I'm hurting him by feeding him less than I normally do or if it's normal to have a guinea pig that weighs as much the Yellow Pages.

So tell me. Should I put him in a harness and start walking him at the dog park? What's a girl with a fat guinea pig to do?