My friend and I were out running some errands when she said she needed to stop at Petco for dog food. I usually avoid pet stores because I have a weakness for small furry things. I buy them, spend too much money on cages and food, and then they die.

The other night was a rare exception. We walked in, Jonas and I saw the cute little mice scurrying around the cage, and I immediately started thinking that I needed one. Having a three year old with a hopeful smile doesn’t help. I finally, after about three minutes, decided to get one. After all, I rationalized, we still have the little cage from the last dead rodent. All I’ll have to shell out is two dollars for the mouse and three dollars for food. I can handle that. And Jonas will be SOOO happy.

Rule of thumb: anything you rationalize by saying that it will make your kid happy is doomed to make you miserable if you have to rationalize it to begin with.

I get the squirmy little thing into a box. Jonas asks to hold her, and I was about to let him until I had a very vivid recollection of the last hamster we had being thrown across the room in a plastic ball. That hamster didn’t last long. I told Jonas he could just look. While Jonas tasted a dog biscuit shaped like a cookie, I made my way to the register to pay for my mouse. I swiped my Visa and thought about Hanta Virus. I thought about my mother’s exasperated response. I thought about Jonas setting it free, it crawling into the wall of the house, dying and stinking until we got stationed somewhere else. I entered my pin number. I thought about the poo I would have to scrape out of the cage and the fact that I would have to remember to feed this one, because we learned from the last one that they die when you don’t do that. I was handed my receipt. I took one step, looked at the cashier, and told her I had to return it.

I apologized profusely, but she just smiled and said, “really, don’t worry about it. This happens ALL THE TIME.”

After learning that they were out of her brand of dog food, my friend walked by and saw me returning it. Her immediate response was, “You killed it already?” I think this means I made the right choice. Now the little guy can die a fast death at the jaws of a pet snake instead of wasting away in a cage and being squished by a preschooler.

Jonas was a bit distraught when we left sans mouse, but he was quickly consoled by buying him a plastic pony from the quarter machine. I view the experience as proof of my personal growth.

The trip wasn’t a total loss. I met a guinea pig who looks exactly like Donald Trump. If I had a hundred bucks for the cage, I would have brought him home.