Ours was a sweet little thing, purple with pink
trim. We called her Tommy Girl
and were amazingly, conceitedly
pleased with our lame-assed 17 year old
selves that we were the proud parents of this defenseless creature.
Dee had custody the first week, but we were roommates, and often it was I who remembered to feed our little girl first thing in the morning. Still, she was Dee's responsibility. I was very dismayed to discover that when I went home for a weekend, Tommy Girl passed on at the mere age of 5 days, due to poop-soiled living space and lack of food.
It took us a while until we were ready to welcome another of the mythical, magical creatures into our lives, but three days later we were again the proud parents of Tommy Girl the Second. For obvious reasons, Dee granted me sole custody and we revelled in parenthood, watching our sweet little thing thrive hour after hour. Girl II was a happy little critter.
How will I ever forgive myself? One day I blithely set out to explore our new city and left her behind. (How could I?)
I neglected to inform Dee of our baby's whereabouts. She said she would never recover from the memories, hearing faint blips of desparation, knowing our Tommy Girl needed her, but being unable to locate her and attend to her most basic needs.
We decided not to have any more girls after that, and mailed the dang tamagotchi back home to Dee's 8 year old sister, the intended recipient.