*Alternatively titled A Tale of Two Bunnies*
Once upon a time I asked my wonderful husband if we could buy the kids some guinea pigs for Christmas.
He said no.
Being the master of persuasion that I am, I endeavoured to use all my feminine charm to convince him that this was a good idea.
He said no.
So I did a very naughty thing.
I went and bought some anyway.
I knew it was wrong. I knew this thoughts, and I knew that I should listen. But I didn’t.
Not one of my finer moments.
Being the wonderful person he is, he forgave my transgression and learnt to
love tolerate the guinea pigs.
There were three.
Cocoa, Lemmee and Sparkles.
The kids loved their pets. They held them and fed them and thought they were the most wonderful things in the world.
I basked in the self satisfaction tinged with guilt, of a woman who has purchased an excellent gift despite the requests of her husband.
Boatman just accepted this was life.
One day, two of the guinea pigs got out.
We were able to retrieve them after much time running around the garden in our underwear whilst being simultaneously screamed at by distraught children.
And boatman never said I told you so.
He is a gem like that.
Then came the day that Cocoa got sick.
I went to feed her and noticed her eyes was pussy, she couldn’t stand and was fitting on the ground.
By the time I got her to the vet, it was all over red rover.
Taylah was distraught.
Bridie was distraught.
Bailey spent the funeral singing hi-5 songs.
I was hot and sweaty from digging a hole deep enough that the dog wouldn’t undig it.
And Boatman, bless his heart, was compassionate.
Again, He never said I told you so.
Cocoa’s death was at the time of the great Darwin Guinea Pig shortage. There were none anywhere.
I even drove out to the rural suburbs, where I was slightly concerned I may be on an episode of Swamp People, in the search of a new pet to aid the healing process.
And that is where we came home with bunnies.
Two identical dwarf rabbits that were quite possibly the cutest things I had ever seen.
Taylah was happy.
Bailey was happy.
Bridie was jealous she had a guinea pig and not a bunny.
Ava was fascinated.
Boatman was happy. He likes rabbits.
On my birthday, Cami ran away, but boatman saved her.
The day after, it happened again.
This time she spent an entire day in the bushes around our home, refusing to be contained.
I even tried getting a vlog out if it, but she wouldn’t comply, and instead left home, hopped down the alleyway, and invited herself to Friday night drinks at a house on the next street.
At eleven o clock Friday night, boatman, bunny catcher extraordinaire, climbed into bed with news that he had retrieved the recalcitrant rabbit.
I was happy.
Taylah was thrilled.
Boatman was the hero.
Yesterday morning, I saw something.
The other bunny, Thumper, didn’t look right. Her paws looked wet and frazzled, and there was something with her face….
Half of it was gone.
I took her to the vet.
The diagnosis appeared to be a ulcer in the mouth that had led to an infection in the bone, a malnourished rabbit, a lowered immune system, and a resulting skin infection.
She didn’t really have a chance.
So we left her at the vet, and said goodbye.
Taylah was devastated.
Bridie was practical.
Bailey and Ava nonchalant.
Boatman relieved that the vet bill wasn’t millions.
And I am philosophical.
It occurs to me that had I listened to Boatman in the first place, none of the following dramas would have occured.
The moral of the story?
Listen to your husband.
You never know when he might be right.