Monday, September 19, 2011

This Is An Ex-Parrot! UPDATED

Growing up we always had pets.  We never had more than one pet at a time, but over the years we slowly churned through a litany of domestic animals, including fish, rabbits, parakeets, dogs, and several turtles.

I don’t remember the first dog or the fish.  We had to give the dog away when I was an infant; it was tired of playing second-fiddle to the new baby and soon grew moody and vengeful.  After that there were some fish, but they had the lasting power of an ice-cream cone on a windy day.  It was probably for the best seeing as I don’t have a good history with fish anyways

No, the first pet I remember having was a rabbit.  He was a brown bunny named Harvey. Or was it Ardie? Or maybe Arby?


I liked the bunny quite a bit.  He lived in a pen in the garage, and his greatest talent seemed to be pooping. Unfortunately, we soon learned that I was allergic to rabbits, including Arby.  So one day I went (sneezing) into my garage, but my bunny was nowhere to be found.  My parents explained that Arby was making me sick, so Dad found a nice meadow in the woods for him to live in with the other rabbits.

Later I found out dad just drove down the road, and deposited Arby on the side of the road.

Dear Dad, 
I do not think you thought your cunning plan all the way through.

To appease my broken heart, my parents went out and bought my sister and I a couple of parakeets.  They bought the child, who was already allergic to rabbits, a bird.  With feathers.

Dear Mom, 
I do not think you thought your cunning plan all the way through.

The parakeets were named J.J. and Crackers, and I hated them.

Well, hate is a strong word.  But I didn’t like them.  They didn’t do much but make a lot of noise, and bite my fingers when I tried to touch them.  And their poop was downright boring compared to rabbit poop.

So one fateful day, my sister and I came home from school, only to find J.J. snuffed it while we were gone.  My sister’s heart-broken sobs radiated throughout the house, and I?  Well, I didn’t care.  I’m pretty sure I went on to eat a bowl of Cookie Crisp and play with my Rainbow Brite doll.

A week or so later, Crackers left us as well.  And again, I didn’t care.  I didn’t care for them when they were alive, and I wasn’t sad when they died.  Which makes me wonder, what happened to me so early on in my existence to render my heart so calloused? 

Oh yes, I probably subconsciously remembered an otherwise gentle cocker spaniel that transformed into Cujo in my presence, and my rabbit was released into the wild pitted against a Volvo. 

That wasn’t traumatizing at all.

UPDATE: I have been informed by those with better memories that the rabbit's name was ARTIE.  Oops.  Who wants curly fries?!


TexaGermaNadian said...

Haha, you are too funny. I can't see myself getting an emotional connection with a bird too. So don't feel bad. Which I have a feeling you dont :)

Angela@BeggingTheAnswer said...

@TexGermaNation - I just don't see how people can be so attached to a bird. That being said, I fear the parrot lobby will be all over me for this comment.

Anonymous said...

We had a dog, two cats, and two rabbits growing up. As well as fish.

I liked the rabbits a lot (mine was a lop I cunningly named Leo), and cats and I have a mutually-agreed neutrality clause, but I loved that dog. Still miss him.

Angela@BeggingTheAnswer said...

@Joshua - After the birds we got another dog, and I loved him with all my heart. He was awesome.

Anonymous said...

Hello Angela, this is your sister. The rabbit's name was Artie. A-R-T-I-E. Ha ha haaaa!! Not that this name is any better than Harvey or Arby! Though I do now have a craving for those darn Arby curly fries...

chemgirl said...

my sister and I had a couple of ducks when we were little ... well.. ducklings... we had them for what felt like a long time.. and then one day they were gone and my parents told me they flew south for the winter... my sister and I never saw Piddle and Paddle again.

I just found out last year that they didn't fly south for the winter.. they died.

parents are assholes.

Betty Fokker said...

Looking back, my moniker should have been Fokker -- slayer of Easter chicks. Either that or my parents went looking for suicidal chicks to present me with to celebrate Christ's resurrection. Come to think on it, they always gave me those fuzzy baby birds on Good Friday ...

Marianna Annadanna said...

This is such an upsetting bunch of stories!

My friend had a pet rabbit named Rabbit. I loved it and always wanted one of my own.

Angela@BeggingTheAnswer said...

@Anon - ARTIE?!!! Crap, I've been calling that rabbit the wrong thing my whole life :)

@chemgirl - awwww... poor piddle and paddle!

@Betty Fokker - you got real live easter chicks for easter? All the easter bunny ever brought me was chocolate eggs.

@Marianna - rabbits are soft and cuddly, but they poop like crazy, hence why mine lived in the garage.

Marianna Annadanna said...

With that concern about poop, shouldn't your children live in the garage?

Angela@BeggingTheAnswer said...

@Marianna - you're going to be a wonderful mother someday :)

jacqui said...

I feel guilty for even laughing about any of this. Well, I don't really feel guilty about the birds. But the poor bunny.

I've had rabbits but they lived in big pens with roofs and a little enclosed room (rabbit hutches??) outside. Now I want a rabbit. And a french dip with curly fries.

Angela@BeggingTheAnswer said...

@Jacqui - The funny thing is that I don't think I ever ate curly fries at Arby's until I was 10 or 11, and I was only 4 or 5 when all this rabbit business went down.

Anonymous said...

My sister bought her boys rabbits. They already had a beagle. You can guess how that went.

Angela@BeggingTheAnswer said...

MamaMash - Oh no! Those poor animals.

Dickie said...

I must agree with you re birds. They are great to look at and many are very tasty, but owning them is not for me. I am convinced that the guy who came up with the first movie “Alien” probably had a parakeet. Although like you say, their poop is boring, it is downright dangerous. It’s capable of eating its way through most materials. They don’t put paper in the bottom of a cage to help with cleanup. They do it because the bottom would rot out in no time. Then the floor, then the basement floor, then China. Surely, Dan O'Bannon, who wrote the screenplay from a story by he and Ronald Shusett, saw this acid like phenomenon and came up with the acid alien blood. And doesn’t the aliens head look like a parakeet? But then I could be wrong. Hope things get better. I find omitting the newspaper helps. Dickie