Dead guinea pigs and such…

So here I was this morning riding my bike to work, listening to the radio…. When all of a sudden the music faded away and did not come back. It cost me about a whole minute before I remembered that that was what happened when I got an incoming call (listening to music on my phone these days). Off course I missed the call by now, but since calling someone 7:20 in the morning is usually not done I decided to check who it was so I knew who to yell at.

It was my ex’s phone number. Now my ex and I aren’t the best of friends anymore so I didn’t really feel like calling back, but since calling that early was kinda weird I figured it must be important. So I called back.

What I got on the other side of the line was my son crying, his guinea pig Bruno (I think he was called) had died. For an eleven year old this is off course an awful event, so I spent the rest of my bikeride comforting him. I even explained to him that the creature could not have died of having been carried to school by his mum, my ex, how noble of me not to put the blame on my ex. After having explained the impracticality of burying the animal in my garden (we live above a carpark, so our garden is about a foot deep and frequently visited buy adventurous feline’s) we decided it was best to “bury” the creature in the green waste bin since that way he was being restored to nature.

All that even before I logged in at work….

So RIP Bruno (right?)