Snow fell in wet, heavy blobs as my feet snowplowed down Second Avenue. I hunched my shoulders against the wind as its icy fingers tried to pry my jacket open. Why couldn’t I live either closer to the school or further away? Closer, and it wouldn’t be such a long, cold walk; further, and I could ride the school bus. But I was right in the middle, so I walked, or in this case, trudged.

On my way home I rounded the corner of Second and Spruce, then stopped and stared through the display window at the golden, wriggly bodies. Five Golden Retriever puppies tumbled and toppled over each other as they played. I was grinning as my thumb pushed the lever to open the door of the pet shop. The smell of cedar shavings and disinfectant smacked me in the face, but I loved it. I closed my eyes and inhaled.

“Well, you look as content as a kitten with a Creamsickle.”

I turned to see Mrs. Wolfe coming through the curtains from the back. She trundled over, her sparse gray hair flying out from her pink scalp, her rotund body swaying from side to side.

“I saw the puppies playing from outside. They’re so cute,” I said.

“They sure are. I don’t suppose you got your mom talked into letting you have one yet.” Mrs. Wolfe knew me from previous visits. She’d even promised to give me a part time job when I turned fourteen.

“No, she says a dog that size doesn’t belong in an apartment.” My mind flashed back to scenes of pleadings, debates and disappointments. I would plead and debate, but I was always disappointed.

“She has a point, you know. Ha! Listen to me. Some salesperson, ay?”

She turned and waved her hand toward the aquariums lined along one wall. “How about fish? They’re quiet, and they never have to be taken out. Best of all you won’t have a little surprise in the middle of the living room floor to clean up—unless the tank leaks!” She chuckled at her little joke, her pudgy body bouncing all over.

“I don’t know, fish are kind of hard to pet,” I said.

“Okay, Jen. It is Jen, right? How about a kitten…or a hamster? I know, guinea pigs! They’re almost as big as a small dog. You can keep them in a cage till you want to play with them. They’re very friendly. Almost as affectionate as a dog.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think Mom will go for that.”

She picked up a little blond bundle of fur and shoved it into my hands. “Here, try this one. It matches your hair.”

I cuddled the warm body against me and looked into the beady brown eyes. Then I looked down into the plastic-walled cage where two more guinea pigs shuffled around, one brown and white and one black and white. I spotted a mound of white fluff in the corner.

“Oooo, what’s this?” I asked, as I set blondy down and reached for the snowy fur ball.

“Oh, that’s a long haired albino guinea pig,” said Mrs. Wolfe, beaming. “She’s a pretty one, isn’t she?”

I picked her up and stroked her. She looked up at me with the oddest red and pink eyes. “Wow, look at her eyes!”

“Yeah, true albinos have red eyes. Creepy, huh?” Mrs. Wolfe turned and began sprinkling flakes into the fish tanks.

As I stroked the guinea pig, it started making this weird sound—sort of like a burble. I’d never heard anything like it before. “What a funny noise it makes.”

“You think that’s funny, put her down, and watch this.” Mrs. Wolfe squatted, reached under the plastic enclosure with a grunt, and opened a little door.

The burbling sound that had been soft and soothing just a second before got louder and more intense from all of the fur balls in the cage When Mrs. Wolfe pulled out a head of lettuce, the sound got high-pitched and frantic. Sort of a Whee! Whee! Whee!

She tore off a few pieces of lettuce, and as they landed on the floor of the cage the “pigs” scrambled after them. They each picked up a leaf with their little front paws and scarfed them down in a hurry, chewing like mad.

“They eat lettuce, like a rabbit?”

“Sure, they eat lots of things. Mostly vegetables, but we have special guinea pig pellets, too, to make sure they get all the nutrients they need,” she explained. “They’re a snap to take care of.”

I was sold. Now, to sell my mom on the idea of a long-haired, tale-less rat with red, glowing eyes. I knew that’s the way she’d see her. Somehow I doubted it was going to happen.

“I don’t know…” I said.

“Look, Jen, you’ve been coming in here for months drooling over these animals. It’s obvious you need a furry companion. Take her home,” she said as she reached for a fold-up box with little holes in it, “and show your mom. Let her read one of these guinea pig folders. If she still says no, bring her back, no questions asked.”

“I don’t have any money with me,” I said.

“I trust you, darlin’. I know where you live.” She winked at me.

“I’m going to name her Lily, ‘cause she’s so white,” I said.

“You do that, dear.” Mrs. Wolfe shooed me out the door.

So I carried Lily, the box clutched against my jacket to keep it warm, up Spruce and down Third, to my building. I ran up the stairs to the second floor and hammered at 2G, not wanting to fumble for my key.

My mom flung the door open. “Why didn’t you use your…what’s that?” she said, her eyes bugging out.

“Before you say anything, read this.” I shoved the folder into her hand.

She looked at the picture on the front, then looked at me. “What is in that box?” she demanded.

“Just read it, Mom. They’re easy to take care of, they don’t eat much and…”

“Open that box!” she demanded.

I opened the top of the box and a furry white head with fierce, red eyes peeked out. The burbling sound started.

“Oh my gosh, what is that?” My mom jumped back and crashed against the floor lamp. I plopped the box on the end table and jumped for the lamp. I caught it just in time.

“It’s a guinea pig, Mom, just read the pamphlet. They don’t get very big, and they don’t cost much to feed, and--”

Unfortunately, Lily chose that moment to tip the box over and scurry out. She rolled off the end table and scuttled across the rug. My mom shrieked like a banshee and darted for the kitchen.

“Get rid of it, get rid of it!”

I scooped Lily up and held her against me, calming her. I just wish I could have done the same for banshee-woman. I carried Lily into the kitchen, where Mom was backed against the sink.

“She won’t hurt you. You scared her, too,” I said. “Pet her, please. She’s really soft.” I held her out to my mom.

“Take that thing back where you got it!” she said, her voice rising with each word.

I had to think of something quick. She wasn’t going to give Lily a chance.

“I can’t. The pet store is closed. She was closing early today.” That’s right, I lied. It was wrong, I know, but I was desperate, and the woman wouldn’t listen to reason. I figured having just one night was better than nothing.

“Then take it back on your way to school tomorrow. Until then, find something to keep it in. Securely.” Mom turned and headed for the fridge.

“Okay, and could you get a little hunk of lettuce and maybe some tomato for Lily?” I asked. I went to the closet and rummaged for a big cardboard box.

“It eats salads?”

“Yeah, she’s real easy to feed.” I set the newspaper-lined box down in the corner of the kitchen and dropped the food into it. Lily waddled over and started munching while I found a heavy bowl and filled it with water.

“The answer is still no,” Mom said.

Crud.

After we finished supper, I played with Lily, did my homework, watched TV while I cuddled Lily, then put her in her box and went to bed. I was bummed. Mom hadn’t even given her a chance. She never read the pamphlet about how easy she was to take care of or anything. I was never going to convince her. Finally, I drifted off, still thinking about Lily.

The next thing I knew I heard this weird shrieking sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. What on earth?

“Whee, whee, whee, whee!”

I scrambled out of bed and crept down the hallway, shivering. The noise got louder. Lily! Great. I had to quiet her before she woke mom up.

That’s when I smelled the smoke. I got to the kitchen to see flames dancing on the counter top beside the stove and starting to lick their way up the cupboard.

“Mom! Come quick, fire!”

Mom was beside me in an instant. I’d already grabbed the fire extinguisher and pressed the lever on top. White, foamy spray covered the counter top and cupboard in seconds and put out the fire. It was over almost before I could think. A blackened, shriveled potholder lay beside one of the electric burners on the stovetop. Mom sometimes left the burner on “low” under the teakettle in the evening. I guess she’d forgotten to turn it off before she went to bed. It must have caught the potholder on fire.

I became aware again of the shrill squealing.

“Is that the smoke detector? How is it working?” Mom asked.

I hurried over and scooped Lily up, stroking her and telling her it was all right.

Mom’s eyes got wide. “That was that thing?”

“Yeah, she woke me up with her whistling. She must have seen the fire or smelled the smoke and got scared. What do you mean ‘how is the smoke detector working’…and why isn’t it?” I asked.

Mom’s face almost matched the color of Lily’s fur, and she reached for a chair to steady herself. “Remember when I burned the bacon the other night, and the smoke detector went off? It wouldn’t stop so I took the battery out and forgot to replace it.”

We looked up at the cover-less, battery-less detector in the ceiling.

“Oh, Jen, we could have been killed. How stupid I was not to have put that battery back. I’m so sorry.” She hugged me, not even caring that Lily’s furry little body touched her.

“It’s okay, Mom. But just think, Lily saved our lives.” I grinned at her.

Mom looked at me long and hard, then sighed. Her mouth twitched, then bloomed into a smile.

And that’s how I got to keep a longhaired, red-eyed guinea pig.

The End

Kathy Greer enjoys writing fiction and nonfiction, especially Mid-grade and Young Adult. She’s had hundreds of columns, articles and stories published in various genres and venues. Her publishing credits include writing a weekly humor column for The Guide (an ad paper to a local newspaper); two monthly columns for The Blue Review: “The Write Way” and “Bragging Rites,” and several writing articles published on the web site of the Institute of Children's Literature (RX for Writers) and The Blue Review. She has had articles and stories published/accepted by both online and print magazines, including: Spirituality, Christian Home & School magazine, Discovery Trails, The Young Salvationist (YS) and On the Line. Kathy is on the Executive Board of Blue Oasis Online Support Teams (BOOST), one of the largest critique organizations for children's writers on the web. She is also the submissions editor for The Blue Review, BOOST's official newsletter .

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