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