There was recently a (temporary) reduction of animals at the Shoup zoo. Our (not at all) sweet hamster, Princess Gypsy crossed the Rainbow Bridge. DH discovered the poor girl and promptly informed me. We hatched a plan where the hamster would be covertly replaced with KIC none the wiser.
While I was in the shower (doesn't everybody do their best thinking in the shower??), I recalled several conversations wherein KIC referenced dying or being killed (bugs, to be specific). Armed with this knowledge, I decided it would be a better policy to be honest with KIC. This would have been okay, however what I failed to take into account is KIC was hungry and tired. This is a recipe for crankiness under normal circumstances, but when you add hearing about the loss of a beloved (in the eyes of a four year old) pet, the results are nothing less than disastrous.
Because I was the one who delivered the news, Princess Gypsy's blood was (figuratively) on my hands. At one point, as KIC was railing at me about how "you're not my friend, Daddy's my friend", I looked right at DH and said "you're welcome". His smug face indicated we should have stuck with the original plan and then we wouldn't be in this mess. To which I glared and stomped off, while hearing "you died her!! You're not my friend!!"
Eventually, after a meal and some ice cream, KIC's heartbreak faded and we welcomed Princess Gypsy 2.0 into the Shoup Zoo. We all love PG 2.0 and work very hard to ensure her health and happiness. Little Miss Memory of an Elephant, however, will remain ever vigilant as I interact with PG 2.0. Recently, as KIC was taking a bath, I refreshed PG 2.0's water. When I came back into the bathroom, KIC gave me a stern look and said "You didn't die her, did you? Because that would make me very sad". To which, I replied, rather sullenly, "No, I didn't!!"
If you need me, I'll be on my therapist's couch, asking why hamsters never love me
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