Buddy & Bug Family Adventure Club

Some of you may have recently witnessed the unfortunate video of our lifeless duck egg on Facebook. For two weeks, we aided a mama duck who took up residence in our flower bed to lay her eggs, all the while making promises to Buddy and Bug they could each keep a duck once the eggs hatched. We caught glimpses of the sweet baby ducks as they poked their beaks from under mama duck’s feathers. We made plans to corral them and their mama into our backyard with intentions of raising them to adulthood and then releasing them at our family’s farm. And then they were gone. As soon as they could, they waddled down to the neighborhood lake never to return, leaving behind cracked shells and a single duck egg.

We knew the odds were probably against us when we scooped up that egg and built a makeshift incubator with a plastic bowl and a lamp. For two days, we watched the egg. Buddy and Bug fought over what his or her’s name would be; Ducklynn was a top contender. Classy. Then one day after church, we knew. The egg was blue and a stench had begun to form in the incubator. I ushered Buddy and Bug to the living room while hubby took to the egg with a screwdriver and hammer chisel. Just as we suspected, the poor baby duck was dead. Not wanting to have a life-and-death conversation at the moment, we devised a lie in which I gathered two egg shells from the flower bed, rushed into the living room and told Buddy and Bug the duck must have hatched while we were at church and gone off to find his brother and sisters. They were happy for our fictitious duck’s family reunion.

The incident, however, got me thinking. What if we had raised a family of ducklings, and the kids became attached only to see one die? My own childhood included a slew of small pets who all happened to die tragic deaths.

• We started with the odd hamsters, who one day broke out of their cage. Being about five years old at the time, all I remember is crying as I watched my parents set mouse traps to catch them before they ate though the television cable.
• Then there were our Guinea pigs, Pepe and Winnie, who unbeknownst to my parents arrived with child {the duo was sold as two boys}. Winnie delivered Sugar and Pepper before I moved their cage outdoors for a little fresh air. I loved that squeaky family, so I thought it would be a treat for them to stay outside while my sister and looked for the family cat, who had “mysteriously run away.” Houston’s hot afternoon sun and insufficient water, however, dried Pepe and Winnie to a crisp, leaving Sugar and Pepper orphaned.
• We weren’t able to verify Sugar and Pepper’s genders, so a few months later, we again were surprised to find an extra pair of Guinea pigs in the cage one morning. Of the incestous offspring came Einstein, a stark white Guinea pig with beady red eyes and a long snaggletooth that regularly had to be clipped to keep it sealing his mouth shut. We tried to pawn Einstein off on my fifth-grade teacher. She kept him during the year, but insisted he go home with us for the summer, and every day after. Einstein lived a long life and died a few years after blindly nibbling a hole in his brother’s ear, which led to an infection and his brothers untimely death.
• After Einstein, we switched to rabbits and entrusted our Mini Lop, with silky brown fur, to the care of my high-school friend while away on family vacation. Big mistake. She daily fed the family cat and dog but apparently forgot we had a rabbit. Oops.
• Then we got Petey, the last of our small pets. He was soft white with tall ears and a cotton tail. One day Petey escaped his cage to go hopping down the bunny trail and landed right in our pool. My mom found him while skimming one day, hoping the white mass in the middle of the pool was just bubbles and not our beloved pet. By that time, however, the death of a pet was no big news.

Given my small-pet history, I hesitate to get one for my children. We wouldn’t have to have those early death talks. But then again, they would also miss out on holding a small, cuddly creature and watching it mature.

Before Buddy and Bug were born, we adopted our two cats. And while the kids love chasing them around the house, they never knew our cats as kittens and never formed a real bond with them. At this point in our family, I am not ready to add a  cat or dog to the mix – those are pretty long term. But a small pet? Maybe.

What do you think about raising small pets?