The next couple of weeks had brought much change to the household. For starters, I had taken on a new job. This one allowed me more flexible hours and was also close to my home. It also had a moderate increase in pay, allowing me some extra money that I very much needed. I had spent several days rearranging and remodeling Gus's room into a general smurf friendly bedroom. In all the commotion, Gus had no clue that another baby smurf was going to be coming into our lives. He was to busy focusing on the new play area and bigger bedding which I was building for them. The day I brought Daisy home was one of much nervousness and trepidation. I had Gus in one room and I brought him a blanket with Daisy's scent on it. He sniffed it curiously, batting at it slightly with a hand. I took this as a sign to proceed. Bringing the younger smurf infant to him, he looked at her, head cocking side to side, not sure what to make of Daisy. It wasn't until she opened her eyes and started to move in her swaddling that he came closer. He huddled close to her and started to groom her, causing both to elicit chirps and squeals. I breathed a sign of relief, taking this as a sign of acceptance.
Daisy was a recent newborn in comparison to Gus, being a couple weeks to his couple months. I had made her a cute little hat, which I slipped on her as soon as I went to pick her up from the doctor. I could hear her sigh with happiness as I fitted it on her in a sound not much more than a peep. She was very small, her diaper huge in comparison to her tiny body. It weighed her down and was so wide she was unable to close her legs, let alone crawl around properly. Her wounds had healed great and her cerulean skin was smooth and blemish free, what little bruising that was left now fading. Her recent rejection still weighed heavily upon her, affecting her despite how much love I gave. She was skittish and panicky, needing to be held or allowed to cling for most of the day. Dave and I worked together to get her acclimated to both of our houses, but I manipulated my work hours to allow me to come home a couple times during the day. Still despite our efforts, the damage had been done to her fragile little psyche. She cried at the drop of the hat, and would throw a tantrum with the slightest provocation. The only time she was calm was when I held her for her nightly bottle or when I allowed her to cling to my chest while I rested on the couch. She needed to have a visual on me at all times and would cry if I put her down or left the room. The poor little creature had been through a lot, it ached my heart to think such sadness had befallen her.
Gus, my poor baby, was not much better off. While he had acted with ambivalence upon first meeting Daisy, this apathy had quickly fallen by the wayside. Upon seeing just how much time and effort the other baby smurf was receiving, Gus had quickly developed a jealous streak. It was subtle at first, a quick glare or a forlorn look. However, within a couple days it had developed into a very vocal disapproval of our brand-new resident smurf baby. He made faces and cried when I held Daisy, hugging himself and rocking back and forth as he watched. He would refuse to be near or next to her, even starting to hiss if I tried to move him. I was confused, hurt and frustrated, that despite my efforts to keep things peaceful I had failed.
Things progressed far outside of my control at one point. The bitter rivalry that had developed between Gus and Daisy started to boil over. There where times when I sat them down for their bottle that the older Gus would over power and push Daisy away from me. He would drink his smurfberry milk fast and then run to snatch Daisy's bottle from her, causing the younger infant to burst into tears. Gus wouldn't allow her to sleep, poking her, slapping her, screeching in her ears when she tried to lay down. He would steal her hat and hold it from her grasp, not relenting until she was crying. Gus would then throw it and watch as she tried to crawl after the bit fabric, her big diaper slowing her movements to an awkward waddle. I was shocked that my precious little Gus was even capable of such behavior, let alone such repeated activity of disdain. I had started to keep them separate, thinking that Gus would eventually lose steam and motivation or perhaps submit to the idea that Daisy was never leaving. However, my actions just seemed to make things worse.
There was one particular afternoon, when I was bathing them for the night, that things got as bad as I had ever seen it. I was in the bathroom with Gus and Daisy, getting them ready bed with a nice warm bath. I always bathed them in separate plastic bowls, color coded so they would have their own. This night however I had not been able to find the other before nightfall and had only the one. I filled the bowl with warm water and placed Gus in it so he could splash around and get warm. Taking Daisy, I undid her diaper and threw it into the trash. Taking the shower head, I began to rinse and clean her. She squeaked at first, still getting used to the loud sound of the water rushing around her. It took her several seconds to acclimate, huddling there under the water as she wrapped both arms around my wrist. Things were normal but within an instant it turned. The clatter of metal on tile and the reflection of light in my eyes confused me for a second. When I came to, the sight before me was horrific.
Gus had run out of the bowl to Daisy and began to attack her. He struck her on the back of the head several times before ripping her off me. A quick pull easily breaking her little grasp and dislodging her from my reach. He then proceeded to drag and beat her across the floor of the shower. Daisy's little arms and legs flailed about as she was slapped, hit, bitten, and pinched by Gus. She wailed a shrill cry which reverberated in the small bathroom. I dropped the shower head and quickly pulled Gus off her, holding her to my chest while I held Gus in my other. My temper flared and I yelled at him while I shook him hard, demanding to know why he would do that to his sister. The baby smurf just smacked his lips at me, eyes wide as he shivered. He reached his arms out to me as he pathetically cried for me to hold him.
Taking a breath, I relented, hugging them both as I tried to recollect myself. It was wrong what I had done but I had no other choice. I would not allow them to hurt each other. I finished their bath and put them to bed, each smurf in a separate cage on the opposite sides of the room. Daisy was ready for bed but Gus hooted for me, arms through the bars of his cage, as I turned off the light and motioned to leave. I continued out the room, ignoring his cries. If I went back now, he would only pitch a bigger fit when I left later.
I went to bed feeling confused and hollow. Not sure what to, I pulled out my phone and began to research. I looked into the life cycles of smurfs, how other keepers dealt with keeping multiples, and what professional trainers said to do. Apparently, it was better for them in captivity to be held in groups, their tight forming bonds allowing them to better develop socially. Smurf troops were rough in nature, with a very strict hierarchy maintained by aggression and brutality. What cooperation they held amongst each other was related to child rearing, resource finding and gathering, and finally smurfberry cultivation. From this, I was able to refine my search and discover some basic training regimens which were recommended for new smurf owners. Something to install obedience and submission while getting the smurfs more comfortable with bonding. I eagerly saved the tabs, planning to read the rest at work. It was a grim but I was determined to do what needed to be done.