Guinea Pig Guilt

Today was another rainy day, but in the words of E1 we had "cabin fever" and decided to leave the house. The girls and I ate lunch at one of our favorite places and then headed back home. On our way home we drive pass a PetCo and I have heard they do free tours for kids and figured we could do that on this rainy day.  E1 LOVES animals. She wants to be a veterinarian - the only acceptable reason for her to become an Aggie. E2 enjoys animals as well, so this activity would be a win win.

We enter PetCo and there is no need for a tour as my girls are already pointing and talking loudly "Look mom, a lizard!" "A mouse" "A bearded dragon!"  "CAN WE GET THE BEARDED DRAGON???"

HELL NO.

I nicely say, "We are not buying anything today." My girls then discover the fish, the rats, the hamsters, the turtles, the tortoises, and finally the guinea pigs. Oh the damn guinea pigs. The kind manager who has noticed my inquisitive girls lets them know that the Pinkie and Brownie were surrendered by another family that could no longer take care of them and were up for adoption for $10 - total. (FUCK.)

E1 knows she has $10 in her piggy bank. E1 LOVES animals. E1 BEGS for the guinea pigs. I ask the manager to explain all the ins and outs of these animals. E1 is more intrigued. E2 just keeps jumping up and down saying "Please."

Pinkie and Brownie come out to meet us. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. (Shit)

$140.00 later, Pinkie and Brownie come home to our house. They have a brand new cage, water bottle, chew sticks, food, a cute bowl, probiotic hay (wtf?), and two girls that LOVE them.

Guess who doesn't love them? THE DOG. THE DAMN DOG. THE 53 POUND BOXER NAMED APOLLO. Wow. Apollo was not happy. We put them on the desk upstairs. That did not work. Apollo jumped on the desk and clawed at the cage. I am sorry but I did not purchase a guinea pig defibrillator and I am pretty sure these rodents just had a damn heart attack.

In the next couple hours, we watched Brownie and Pinkie hide in a corner while Apollo tried to clear TWO baby gates and he came pretty damn close. Apollo was smart enough to use the couch as leverage to try and clear the banister of the stairs. All the while he is foaming at the mouth and whining and barking. This was (is) a damn disaster. More jumping, clawing, and the girls yelling at the dog that he is a "bad boy." Poor poor Apollo.

Brownie and Pinkie have been returned to PetCo. E1 cried the entire 10 minute drive back to the pet store and E2 said over and over "Sorry Brownie and Pinkie. Apollo scared you. Apollo eat you. Sorry." At the pet store, I had to beg and plead for a full credit - I did not need a store credit. The money was returned to the credit card and E1 cried and said goodbye. E2 said goodbye. I shamed myself in my head for even doing this to them. What the hell was I thinking? Why did I not think of the dog? Where was my brain? UGH.

WORST MOM EVER GUILT. GUINEA PIG GUILT.

When we got home E1 told me cake would help cheer her up and since I am not in the business of teaching my daughters how to eat their emotions, she settled for drawing a picture to remember the day we owned guinea pigs.

Our only consolation? Apollo is 5.5 years old and statistically speaking he will be dead in about 5 years. So, I will add guinea pigs to my "Dead Dog Plans" which also include all white bedding and hardwood floors.