It wasn't actually ill fated for me, I had just had that one and only perfect first cup of coffee for the day.
It was however ill fated for the 4 fish in my eldest daughter's fish tank, who seem to have stopped swimming in favor of less energetic pursuits, of a floating nature.
This would not have been considered ill fated, truth be told, in our house, given the sheer number of fish buried in our garden. 29 to be exact. Yes, really. I like fish don't get me wrong. I just can't stop killing them. Before the great and mighty Tescos, perhaps this was actually a gift.
It was when the death count rose, by 2 more, that the day could be tagged ill fated. There amidst some chewed ethernet cable was the younger daughter's beloved fuzzy rodents. I still ponder what went on inside the brain of the second hamster as he choose to chew the wire which had just moments before taken the life of his cage mate, but chew it he did.
While I sat furiously protesting my internet - less - ness, my daughters began the process of grieving for their departed dependents.
'I need pets that won't die all the time.' Eldest daughter says.
'All pets die.' I replied.
'I want an elephant.' Younger daughter replies.
Now thinking that I was clever, and would somehow win the parent - child battle for all things fuzzy whom poop on the carpet, I agreed.
'An elephant is perfect.' I said to a pleased little face.
Four hours later, without a trip to Just4Pets (saving me the trouble of having to guiltily face the three women who work there and, I hope, think I am still the proud owner of the small zoo they have sold me over the years.), we had adopted 1 african elephant and 1 panda from the WLF. Cuddly toys were to arrive shortly via royal mail. Perfect I thought, pets and not a single cage to clean.
6 weeks later, on a dubiously sunny October morning, again a Monday, we received an unfortunate update. The animal sanctuary from which we had adopted our beloved endangered elephant from was victim to an attack. 6 elephants were killed... including the one registered to my daughter.
It was then they brought me their contract, written in green crayola.
It was under duress I tell you, though I doubt it will stand up in any court. During the moments when I was contemplating my failure as a mother to manage to keep even a pet not within my care, that the big blue pleading eyes got the better of me.
We are now getting a puppy.