on pets.

Willow and Mister Leda.

I sent M a message one day asking if we could get guinea pigs. Exactly how M replied to that message is still up for public debate, several months later. I point out he didn't say no, and it was positive enough that I came home with two (free) guinea pigs and a hutch. M argues that he didn't say yes either.

Willow named them Mister Frodo and Mister Leda. I have no idea where she would have picked them up from, as the last time I watched Lord of the Rings was when I was pregnant.... and I remember discussing Leda and the swan while pregnant too, since I decided to reread all the Greek myths. Make of that what you will.

Mister Frodo was the more out going and active one; Mister Leda generally just sat there looking terrified. M never really warmed to them. Sure, he cared for them, but complained they were useless since they never really warmed to him and that he didn't get why people got pets other than dogs. Mister Frodo always tried to run away, and Mister Leda just always sat there looking petrified. They liked Willow, although god knows why. She never meant to mistreat them, but three year olds aren't the best with that whole empathy and gentle things. That's why we got the guinea pigs.

Then Mister Frodo died. One day he had diarrhea, and the next morning I found a terrified looking Mister Leda curled up next to Mister Frodo's stiff body.

Fail.

I considered telling Willow Mister Frodo had left to go on a holiday, and then to start sending her letters from Mister Frodo, full of stories about his great adventures. Or maybe I could wait till M got home and get him to deal with the whole thing?

In the end I decided to tell her the truth. Her little face fell. She asked some astute questions- which guinea pig was it? What happened to the other guinea pig? Why did he die? Can I see Mister Frodo? I answered them as best I can, and resisted the urge to scream hysterically as I retrieved Mister Frodo from his bed and prepared him for burial. As I dug the grave, I asked Willow to go and select a fabric to wrap him in for burial, praying that she didn't select a pure silk one or something. She ended up selecting her favorite fabric, a hot pink with white stars on it. I told her that was a good choice. In our household, stars will keep you safe, especially from the big bad banksia men. We wrapped him up, laid him in the grave, and Willow placed some flowers on that sad little bundle. Then she asked if she could pat him, so we unwrapped him and she patted him. I said a few words, Willow looked like she was going to cry, I shoveled dirt over Mister Frodo and Willow asked me how Mister Frodo was going to get out now.

Then I took her to the park as a distraction and on the walk home she asked me if Mister Frodo was alive yet. Now, she just asks if she can dig Mister Frodo up and look at him.

A few days later M took Willow and got a new guinea pig. He's tiny and brown with red eyes, so I suggested Sauron as a name. Willow insisted on called him Mr Frodo.
"But we've already used that name. Don't you want another name?" I suggested.
"Mister Frodo is gone. This is Mister Frodo now," she replied. M and I were creeped out and we didn't push the matter any further.

Mister Frodo II was raised by a teenaged girl, so unlike Mister Leda and Mister Frodo I, he's a lot tamer and friendlier and more interactive. If he smells something he likes, he starts making excited noises. He make happy noises when you rub him in the right spot, and like a dog if you scratch him tummy just so, his leg twitches. Mister Leda, by extension, has also become a lot friendlier and calmer, and only looks terrified about half the time now. Mister Frodo II is tiny and soft and friendly, and suddenly, M now sees the point of pets. Previously, the guinea pigs had to sleep outside- now they sleep inside. Previously, M went shopping and purchased something for everyone- a scooter for Willow, a plant for me and a seed stick for the birds- but excluded the guinea pigs; now he's spoilt them with their own food dish and special treats. I used to beg the supermarkets for green scraps, and now M buys them baby spinach since Mister Frodo II has explained to Mark that baby spinach leaves are his favorite.

So Willow's learnt about death, and M has learnt the joys of pet ownership. I'm not sure what I've learnt yet, unless you count "always get a family pet that is easy to bury."