It's been three days since we decided to put Tina, the Meatball's guinea pig to sleep. Three days of the Meatball asking when Tina would be back from the hospital (veterinarian). Three days of me responding with, "I don't know, Meatball, I guess she's really sick." Three whole days of postponing the inevitable: sitting down with the Meatball and telling her, her guinea pig of a year and a half is dead. Yes, I'm guilty of lying to my child.
Lying to my child about our dear family pet has left me feeling incredibly guilty, especially since it's key to the strategy Pretty Pants and I conjured up and agreed upon regarding Tina's fate. For the past couple months, we started noticing a bald spot emerging from the little guinea pig's back. Unsure what it was and praying it would just go away, the spot just kept growing. For a creature that small, there isn't that much space to begin with. Long story short (and to avoid getting into the gory details), Pretty Pants and I finally decided Tina needed to be checked out by a professional. Two coinciding thoughts were running through our minds about this experience: 1) we sincerely hoped Tina would be okay and the veterinarian could treat her what appeared to be infected spot and 2) this better not cost a fortune for a small guinea pig. After getting the girls ready for school, my husband engaged the Meatball in helping him get Tina ready for the "hospital". He pulled out a shoe box and had Meatball poke holes in the box so Tina could breathe. As Pretty Pants placed Tina in the box, our 2 year old, Spaghetti waved at the box encouragingly, "Bye Tina, bye!", while the Meatball stared pensively at the box she was given to lay on her lap on the ride to school.
After Pretty Pants dropped the girls off to school, he took Tina to the vet. The vet told my husband of our choices. They would have to perform surgery on Tina to remove the bump ($297). They can only test the bump post surgery, meanwhile we would be given medication to treat Tina's recovery (at an additional cost of $150). Yikes. Pretty Pants and I couldn't help but agree that it would be too costly for us to move forward with this scenario, which only left us with the decision no one ever wants to make, not even for their pets. Again we were hit by a slew of costs in various packages! Package 1: Put Tina to sleep, cremate her body and have the clinic spread her ashes over the ocean ($200) Package 2: Put Tina to sleep and cremate her body ($150) Package 3: Put her to sleep ($50 and my husband was able to negotiate a complimentary disposal). Goodness. We did feel slightly guilty for choosing package 3 because we do understand the connection's one can make with their pets. Maybe if Tina were a dog and had lived with us for years we'd be dishing out thousands to save her, but she wasn't and we did the best we could with what we had. Inevitably, the risk of performing surgery on such a small animal who would probably suffer and die sooner than later made our case. But now we're faced with the consequence of telling the Meatball, the painful truth.
Growing up I had one dog. His name was Prince. We had him ever since I could remember and he moved with us everywhere: the Philippines, North Dakota, California. Prince lived a long life, about a good 15 years, to the point where he was suffering from blindness as he would run into hallway walls at my parents home. One summer, while I returned home from college, I noticed Prince wasn't there to greet me. I asked Rambo where Prince was and he told me nonchalantly, "Oh we put him to sleep about four months ago. He was already old you know." I was devastated. My closet childhood friend gone without my knowledge for four months! But that's how my parents treated pets. Of course, they love all their pets, treated them well, kept them fed and taken care of but there wasn't that apparent attachment nor affection as one would see in the States. I knew my parents cared for their pets deeply, since they would never leave them for long periods of time, but they were also realistic about growing old and death. I will never know.
Now as a parent, I'm faced with telling my child about the death of her pet. Pretty Pants and I have danced around how to tell her for three whole days and decided that over the weekend would be the best bet. I know that Tina's death doesn't carry as much weight to us as an actual person would have been, but to the Meatball it may be one in the same. We're still not sure how to approach it, realistically like my father had done? Come with a plan B/distraction? Tell her the truth? Or twist the truth a little bit as to not hurt her or have her blame us? We're just going to have to wing this one and find out.
Rest in peace, Tina.
How have you approached pet deaths in your household?
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Pets are a tough one when it comes to illness and vet bills. Our 7-year-old Dalmatian/Lab has arthritis and so far we've been able to manage it, but I dread the day the Vet tells us he needs something more serious, like surgery. Weighing out the love for your pet and the costs is a tough, tough choice. Like you, we also had a pet that grew up with us and lived a long life. We noticed a lump on her under belly when she was about 15 or 16 years old. Fortunately, it never seemed to bother her. She passed away in her favorite spot in the sun in our backyard when she was about 17. While my parents also share the same level of attachment and affection towards their pets as your parents, my mom recently told me that she has dreams of Peanuts and thinks that Peanuts is trying to thank us and let us know that she's alright.
ReplyDeleteHope the girls are handling it well.
Thanks for the sentiment. I never owned any small animals as a child. We were a dog family. I definitely think this experience would've been different with a dog... but I think the Meatball is still sad about it.
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