Animal Fiasco

My wife and daughter have begged to bring a new animal into the death chamber called the Mateer home. Understand, our reputation for animals hasn't been stellar and they usually die an untimely and unusual death. Example would be the dog that died in the pool, hermit crabs (and yes, that's plural) that die from lack of water, and on and on the list could go.

I finally consented to a Hamster, thinking a rat was just too gross. They proudly brought home Gizmo and showed him to me. I was like, ok, I can handle this.

On Thursday of last week, I asked casually, is the varmint still ok or have you all even looked at him today. Oh, no, I was assured, he's fine and we play with him every day. On Friday, I got "the call." Gizmo's dead. Dead? He was fine yesterday. Well, fine isn't really the truth. He was losing hair, but my wife didn't think I should know that. Then the truth came out. Gizmo was free (this fact I didn't understand when they brought him home). He was free because his mother and father were brother & sister (West Virginia jokes are NOT appropriate at this time, William!) My wife, who I consider as smart as most vets as far as small animals go (I've heard her personally have to tell the vet what the next treatment step should be), said that she knew there were going to be problems as there were definite genetic problems. Great! My daughter is crying hysterically over a dead animal that had known genetic disorders.

Now the pleading comes back for a rat. No, no, no! I will not have a rat in my house. Only, I say, if I can get a snake that will eat the rat.

Then the research starts to get a new exotic pet. Yes, lets get a short tailed possum. Yep, you heard me right. Possum! After pleading, cajoling, promising, etc, I said, go ahead.

However, a 9 year old shouldn't be responsible for her own animal, so she left the door open to her room and the cats decided it would be fun to play with the possum. We came into the room Sunday morning to find cedar bedding strung from hither to yon, cage totally in disarray, and no possum. Now, I'm NOT happy! The family skipped Sunday school to look for this blessing, to no avail. They locked the cats in the bathroom and just hoped Gizmo II would come home(no, we COULDN'T come up with an original name).

The good news is that the cat led us to the dryer where underneath was crouched a thirsty, hungry, but otherwise fine Gizmo II.

Anyone want a cat?