In the past week, our Little Guy has gone from owning no pets of his own anymore (don’t ask) to owning three: a guinea pig named Max and 2 nameless Black Giant chicks.
The guinea pig was not our animal of choice. Our sometimes-too-generous neighbor showed up on our doorstep late one evening and pushed a green plastic ball in my arms and a plastic bag full of something into a child’s arms.
“Thanks,” I said. “What’s this?”
It was then that I noticed something moving in the green ball (no, I didn’t drop it, whew).
“This is Max,” our neighbor said, “a guinea pig.” Over the past few years, our neighbor has shown up with turtles, a dresser, an armoire, a swingset, a wooden fence, and a trampoline. Why not a guinea pig named Max?
Little Guy had that look in his eyes – you know the one a mama can’t resist – so he got to keep Max as his own. Not that we had a choice since we were already holding Max and his food.
A few days ago, our Little Guy gained two more pets when we couldn’t resist the cute fuzzy critters in the feed store. He found two Black Giant chicks who will lay eggs for us someday.
Today, he introduced one of the chicks to Max. “I think they’ll be friends,” he said.
I’m not sure if Max is happy to have a new friend…
…especially after the unthinkable happened on his nice white coat (yes…that).
Clean up, of course, was my treat, as mother of the household.