The lesson for this post is to BREATHE.

This to shall end and things will not remain this intense all the time.

I woke one morning to a very sick guinea pig. The poor thing looked like it had been through the washing machine spin cycle; hair matted up, eyes wet and puffy, moving slowly. I told the kids that that Guinea-Gin (that was the name that stuck for this poor animal) was sick. My oldest asked why I wasn't taking it to the vet.

So let me rewind life about 2 years to explain that one.

We have a rabbit that is in a hutch out back. He is a cute, little, brown rabbit. A kind of wild-looking rabbit, like the ones you would see living outside in your garden in the spring. My husband built the hutch and, as far as hutches go, its like a upscale condo with multiple rooms. One day I was packing up to go to the mountains for the weekend with the kids and I went outside to load up our rabbit, "Whiskers" with food and water. Whiskers looked at me and stood up on its hind legs. As it did, one front leg was there and the other was GONE! A bone stuck out where the little rabbits foot should have been. I screamed and instinctively took him to the vet, where they treated Whiskers for 48 hours, cleaned him up and performed surgery. They saved him! That little rabbit made it through. When I brought him home days later and shared this story with the family, my kids thought I was a hero, and my husband thought I was an idiot. "How much did that cost, babe?" he asked. I was afraid to answer. It was getting close to my birthday, so I said "It'll be my birthday gift! A healthy rabbit!" $800 later I swore to Skip I would never take a rodent or small animal like that to the vet again.

Well, it was Guinea's turn and unfortunately for Guinea-Gin, I kept my word to Skip.

I was nursing this little Guinea with an eye dropper, trying to get him to take food. I was in my nightgown, getting the kids ready for school. As they left I held him, wondering how long he would last like this. As I was getting ready to wash him in the laundry room sink (he had gotten pretty smelly), the doorbell rang. It was the landscapers coming to turn off our water for fall. I still wasn't dressed.

"Come on in" I said, in my nightgown, holding a dying guinea... in a washcloth. I let them into the basement where they proceed to work on the sprinklers.
I finally found a moment to run up and change, and I hear my husband scream "BABE! There is a flood! What are you doing!?" I composed myself as best as I could (still not dressed), put on a robe and ran back downstairs to see water all over the kitchen, bathroom and laundry room floor. It was leaking down into the basement. Oh yeah, I was planning to wash Guinea and I left the laundry sink filling. Well, there you have it. It was quite a morning in the Miller house. I called my friend Jen to share my story and started laughing so hard I was crying.

"Are you laughing or crying?" she asked, sincerely.

"I think a little of both"

BREATHE- I thought. Just breathe.

Guinea-Gin finally died the next day, fairly peacefully (and with no vet bill). The kids cried, we had a funeral, the sprinklers are shut down, the water is dried and cleaned up from the "flood", and guess what?

Our three-legged rabbit is still going strong.