Sunday, September 30, 2012

A history of pets

Harvey: My first pet. He was a parakeet. One day I noticed his cage was empty and asked my mother where he went. She told me he had to go back to the pet store because he missed his bird friends. Whenever we passed the pet store I would make my mother take me inside so I could say hello to Harvey. When I was a teenager I realized that Harvey had died.

the lobster: My father brought home a pet lobster. He put it on the kitchen floor and I kept gently poking it with my finger because I'd never seen a real lobster up close before. When my father told me the lobster was for dinner I cried. I thought it was my new pet. My mother yelled at my father for letting me play with the dinner.

my friends guinea pigs: Katlyn and Erin were sisters who lived upstairs from us. They had two guinea pigs. I was tasked with looking after them while they went on vacation to Colorado. I would go upstairs everyday with my mother and change their water and food. I would take them out and pet them to make sure they weren't lonely. Katyln and Erin sent me a postcard from Colorado telling me about their uncle's farm. The day before they were suppose to come back, Katlyn's guinea pig died. I was very upset because I tried so hard to take good care of them. My mother told me they were old and I couldn't have done anything better. When Katlyn came home and asked to see her guinea pig, I put my arm around her and said "your guinea pig's dead". Katlyn ran into her apartment crying.

Iggy: My brother wanted an iguana. My mother asked me how big they can get. I spread my arms out wide and said "this big". My mother thought I was exaggerating. She soon found out I wasn't.

Lucky, Rolly, Twix: My pet mice. Lucky was white with black spots. Rolly was fat and all black. Twix was the color of the candy bar. Lucky loved to hold onto the wheel while Rolly ran and then he'd jump off and walk around crooked. Rolly died and we got Twix as a new friend for Lucky. Lucky tried to attack Twix so we had to get a separate cage. My mother would put the mice on the cats to "go for rides". I was mad at my mother until I realized that our cats were weird and didn't care.

Tigger: My first cat. He was part Siamese and very smart except that he loved to eat plastic. He could turn door knobs. We lived in a two family house. We had two sides to the basement that both apartments could access. Tigger would often sneak down there when we were doing laundry. One day my neighbor hears her daughter going "kitty! kitty!" and finds her petting a strange cat. She starts yelling at her husband thinking he got a cat without telling her. Their older daughter told them she thought it was the upstairs neighbors cat. They knocked on our door with Tigger and asked if he was ours. We had been out searching the neighborhood thinking he got out. He had opened my neighbors unlocked basement door and went into their apartment.

Roo: Our second cat. Tigger and Roo became best friends. Roo loved to drag stuffed animals, clothes, blankets, anything soft around the house to suck and kneed. He liked to sleep on peoples coats and if you tried to get him off he would hiss and swat at you. Once Tigger died we decided that we should get another cat because Roo was lonely. He only liked Boo on his terms. I'd wake up in the morning and find Roo and Boo sleeping on the floor of my bedroom nowhere near each other, but Roo still wanted to be in the room. When I moved out I took Boo and Roo would wander around the house meowing, wondering where that cat he use to chase went.

Boo: He had a broken pelvis that didn't heal right so he walked like he was drunk. He was found under a dumpster. He loved chicken and would do anything to get it. We had a Super Bowl party and I see him out of the corner of my eye stealing a wing from the coffee table. My roommate Meg follows him into the kitchen where there was another chicken wing that he demolished in the corner. He was the first pet that I actually was there when he was put to sleep. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. The vet told me that they look for you when they're dying, and I knew I had to stay. I scattered his ashed in the backyard where I would sit and read while he sniffed the plants and lazed in the sun.

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