Sunday morning is my only morning to sleep in.
I love to sleep in.
So, for years my kids have learned to leave Tired Mama alone on Sunday mornings. I have always told them that unless someone has died or the house is burning down to not bug me on Sunday mornings until after nine.
But this past Sunday morning my youngest burst into my room at about seven. Thank goodness I had enough sleepy sense not to berate her for coming in so early because in between her shaking sobs she told me something had actually died.
Her guinea pig.
Yep, our beloved little pet had decided, with no warning, to pass on during the night. Our family spent part of this past Sunday holding a burial service in our backyard.
Rest in peace, my little friend. You were a good and loyal pet and you will be missed.
I actually do miss the guinea pig's squeaks for attention already. It was very quiet while I was working today – it made me sad.
Now, the puppy pleading will begin in earnest. I give Tired Papa six months of big teary hazel eyes from his little girl before we get another guinea pig or a dog, or a bunny or some other new furry creature for ME to look after.
I think I'm gonna miss you for a long time, little piggy.