I turned down her offer of showing me how to feel for our guinea pig’s testicles.
I’ll have a good feel around the bottom of my gross, cavernous bag trying fruitlessly to find the source of all the stickiness. I’ll do a “lady check” of my boobs because we all know prevention is better than a cure. If I’m feeling really brave, I’ll have a feel in and around the couch – it’s a world of discovery in there – I’ve found coins from countries I’m certain someone is just making up.
Do I want to fossick around a guinea pig’s bits searching for their gonads? I think I might say no.
You see, I decided it was time for a pet. “Kids need pets,” I told my husband as if I knew what I was talking about, “It’s how they learn responsibility.” So we went to the pet shop, and brought home Rosie Fluffy McTuffy.
I swear I bought her for the kids. And yes, I know it’s a rodent. But I was smitten. And I decided that Rosie needed a friend. So I bought Josephina.
My daughter wanted to call her Love-Hat. I wish I had thought of that. But our son didn’t like it, so Josephina it is.
Everything was fine. We had two female guinea pigs for my children to ignore while I cleaned up after them. And then everything changed.
“There’s another one!” My daughter was pointing to a third, very tiny guinea pig that looked very much like a little Rosie, who was now remarkably slim. In fact Rosie was now taking post-birth selfies wearing skinny jeans and making all the other guinea pig mummies feel like shit.
Our pets had, as my daughter put it, “hatched” a baby boy. My son named it after himself, Sam. As you do. It turns out Rosie, the cavy vixen, was pregnant in the pet shop. I now know that when you go to a pet shop and ask for a female guinea pig who is definitely not pregnant, the staff will fart in your general direction and laugh behind your back.
After spending much of my day off waiting at the vet’s, they had bad news. Sam the guinea pig’s balls hadn’t yet made an appearance – so no snippy snippy. The vet offered to show me how to check this for myself, instead I’ll just take him back in another couple of weeks and hope that in the meantime he doesn’t shag his mother. This prompted my husband to write the following Facebook post:
The best part were the comments that came afterwards.
One friend paid the same amount for steroid cream for her mouse with a skin condition.
Someone else’s cat was on dialysis for so long, they had to cancel their holiday.
Then there’s my friend Nic. Ages ago she paid $85 to have her pet mouse, Bevan, which she bought for $2.95, temporarily anaesthetised. Bevan, who is named after the YTT stud (Aussies of a certain era will get it), had to have a very cute little gas mask so that his permanent erection could be comfortably placed back into its sheath, only for it to re-emerge within a couple of hours.
So I am feeling less silly about paying nearly $200 to give Sam (the guinea pig, not my son), the snip.
What ridiculous things have you done for your pet?