Our little friend Strawberry 'paid a visit to the doctor last night.' Or so we told Abby. She will be there for a few days. Or atleast until I can find a resembling replacement. I thought about telling Abby the truth, but when she came downstairs this morning, I heard this:
"Moooooooooooommmmmy!!!! My guinea pig is..... (sob) GONE!! Where is Strawberry?! I looked everywhere, but she's not in my room! The cage and everything disappeared!! Where is she mom?! Did daddy sell her? I neeeeeeed her... she's my (sob, sniffle) bestest frieeend!!"
As she continued to sob, I incoherently tried to explain, "She, uh.... well, you see, Abby. Um... the truth is that.... Strawberry was, oh god. Abby, don't be upset but.... meh."
While getting puzzled and frantic looks from my five year old, I continued, "Strawberry-had-to-go-to-the-doctor!" I blurted. "She'll be home in just a few short days. Really. She will. I, I prom..." I cleared my throat and tried again. "Ahem... I promise!"
Abby quickly wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, and asked, "She's at the vet? Oh! I thought Daddy taked her back to the store!! Can I call her on the phone? How many days until she gets home again? I can't wait until she's all better!"
Before I was able to explain that she could not, in fact, call the guinea pig on the phone, she ran off to tell Georgie that Strawberry needed her shots and that she would be home when she was not 'tagious' anymore.
So there it is. One dead guinea pig, and one solemn promise that, somehow, she will return in three days or less. I just hope I can find her guinea twin soon enough.
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