Blueberry Panda has the sniffles. Oh man. Here we go again.
Our family is currently on our third set of guinea pigs. Blueberry Panda and Caramel. Always a set of two boys. I actually really like guinea pigs and recommend them for a family who is in the market for an easy pet. No bitey hamster or stinky rat or goldfish to flush. For a period we were a retirement community for our preschool co-ops aging guinea pigs. The kids wore them out and they retired to our house to relax in comfort for their remaining days.
Caring for aging guinea pigs was a wonderful experience for my children. Guinea pigs are low-maintenance pets who are perfectly content with a handful of dry food and all the vegetable and fruit scraps you can load in their cage. Guinea pigs are very social animals and don't mind being held by excitable children, especially these pigs who had spent four years with 3-4 year old's. Plus, there is nothing cuter than watching their little mouth munch on parsley as a gleeful child laughs. At our retirement facility Jordan and Julian would keep the pigs exercised by making a maze in our family room out of wooden blocks. Cleaning their cage meant an afternoon in the backyard, practically a vacation in Miami. Everything was going great until I killed the first set. Oooops.
My children had their first glimpse of death on a warm Mountain View afternoon. We left the guinea pigs in the backyard to play under their metal caging. They were comfy under our persimmon tree, tucked in their little houses, munching on grass. We forgot they were there. As the day wore on we decided to run a few errands. When we came home we (meaning mom) had a horrible realization. The shade from the tree had shifted and the old guinea pigs couldn't handle the direct sunlight. I waited for Lewis to get home and we broke the news. Jordan wailed and cried and cursed the sky with a barrage of "Why? Why? Why?". Julian shrugged and asked if he could draw a picture. It was amazing to witness the difference in their grief. Lewis dug a hole while I found a shoe box. We wrapped each of them in a towel and the boys took turns looking at them and saying goodbye. Jordan included a letter and Julian the picture. The cage was cleaned and sent back to the preschool until a year later when the other classrooms pigs were ready for retirement.
This time I wasn't going to be so careless! I was a doting mother. I hovered closely when the boys held them. I gnawed on my nails while they frolicked in the backyard. I washed them in the sink every time the cage was cleaned. I bought the expensive recycled bedding. All was going well. And then it happened. One of them started to sneeze. A wet sneeze. Sneeze? I was nervous. How could I not be nervous with Jordan's wailing so fresh in my mind. I started to panic. I thought, it's too soon for this set to die! I made a phone call, loaded the guinea pig into a box and sent the kids to the car ... off to the Veterinarian.
We were ushered into a room and the nurse looked at me funny. Guinea pig? I understood her amusement, guinea pigs are a dime a dozen. Well maybe $200 a dozen, but still, it's not like it was the family dog. The Veterinarian came in to examine the pig while the nurse "assisted". Tests were recommended. Blood was drawn. The boys looked to me with eyes filled with hope and I responded, "everything is going to be all right". The Veterinarian returned with good news, "It's just a plain old cold. No treatment." With a sigh of relief the guinea pig went back into the box and the kids bounded into the waiting room where the amused nurse was waiting with the bill. $90. 90 dollars for the Veterinarian to tell us our guinea pig had a cold. 90 big ones.
Sorry Blueberry Panda that 90 dollars is still fresh in my mind and don't forget about inflation. I'm holding on to my cash this time.
Lesson Learned: Don't take a guinea pig to the Veterinarian unless you are prepared to be the punchline at the annual convention ... and out 90 bucks.
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