Look, I’ve never had a pet. Not one. My grandparents had a Yorkshire Terrier. My Aunts Labradors or maybe a Golden Retriever, I can never tell the difference. At some point my uncle had a snake (it would shit once every three months and stink his flat out; when you held it, it would wrap itself around your arm to try and constrict you but then fail to seal the deal because a muscle had been removed from its tail).
But me. Nothing. Not a hamster. Or a gerbil. Or an iguana. Not even a goldfish or a tamagotchi – remember them? And I never wanted one either, because when they’re gone they’re untouchable.
My grandparents’ dog was killed by a train. It broke free of its leash. They shouted heel, but it ignored them and was struck by a freight carrying coal. It was split in two. You should’ve seen them. I might as well’ve died. They were distraught. I could never mention it without tears and slaps from my mother to stop bringing it up.
Before I can remember, my parents had cats. We lived in one of those old tower blocks – it’s probably been knocked down since – and, so my dad says, the both of them died in quick succession. The first was killed by a car as it was crossing a road. One quick dash and wham! The other leapt from our nineteenth floor flat.
I asked my dad how it happened and he told me it saw a bird on the balcony and couldn’t help itself. It tried to pounce and missed. I told him it surely should’ve been fine. Cats always land on their feet, don’t they? And they have nine lives.
He wasn’t amused.
- The lonely tower block (adeypt.wordpress.com)
- My Life in Dogs (steadywanderer.wordpress.com)
- Orange-san’s Story (heatherdeajennings.wordpress.com)
- Furry Friend (joyinthemoments.wordpress.com)
- How my dog set my cat on fire (dailychaosincolorado.wordpress.com)
- Solicit About Persian Cats (scratchpostsforcats.wordpress.com)