Last summer, right after my husband went into the hospital, I got my daughter Princess the dwarf hamster. She was black and white and fat and cute.
Well, Princess died this past March. About a week afterward, my daughter asked for a new pet so my husband and I agreed that she could get another little pet - a gerbil or a hamster, something of that sort.
Eddie and Tiger are Mongolian gerbils. Eddie's black and white, Tiger is yellowish-tan. They were brothers, and hysterical to watch together, so we took both.
Found out a few weeks ago that they aren't brothers. Apparently they are husband and wife. Or boyfriend/girlfriend.
Long story short - we came home from the shore on Memorial Day when my daughter goes up to her room to check on the boys. A few minutes later, she comes into my office all excited because there's a baby gerbil in the cage.
'You're crazy. They're both boys," I told her - after all, I do know a little bit about biology.
She gives me a look that only a 7 year old can give and says, "Mommy, I know a baby when I see one."
And that's were Kevin came in.
Yes, my daughter named (against my better judgment) the baby gerbil Kevin.
While she did that, I was putting my google-fu to work, looking up everything I could possibly find about baby gerbils. I've never had one. I was clueless.
Kevin seemed to be doing well, considering he was either the only gerbil or the only one to survive. Since we weren't home when Eddie (who is the girl, btw) gave birth, I have no way of knowing how many pups there were.
Sadly, I went to check on him today and found him gone. Poor little guy. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet.
The Girl was crushed.
My husband dug a hole while I put Kevin in a Band-Aid box, along with fluff and some string (I don't know why we put the string in, but the Girl wanted it.) And we buried Kevin next to Princess.
Rest in peace, Kevin. She misses you.