How Can he Eat When he’s Dead?
OUR CHILDREN’S PETS.
My mismanaged zoo growing up helped me prepare for my children’s own menagerie, where (sometimes) only the fittest survived. Naturally the lower the pet on the evolutionary scale, the less attention it got — and the more likely Dad became chief caregiver and undertaker. It was my fate.
Take Pip for example. He was a fine kitten until he was neutered too young, developing urinary tract problems — and a bad temper to go with it. He wouldn’t let people pass on the stairs without savaging their legs for no reason. Our daughter, Emma, didn’t mind Pip being a piece of work, and as soon as she could walk she’d follow him around, going “Meow, mow, mow…”
When Emma was three, the cat developed a septic condition and had to be taken to the vet, sadly for the last time. I needed a double scotch when I got home, but it gave me courage to face Emma. “Where’s Pip?” she asked. I blathered something about kitty heaven, adding he’d have lots of his favourite treats. Emma wasn’t buying it: “How can he eat when he’s dead?” She knew about natural selection from the demise of Fennel, her goldfish, killed with kindness from overfeeding.
It was time for another species, and Emma was thrilled when we got a budgie. So was was her little brother, Aaron, and together they named him Billie. Billie loved to clean people’s teeth with his beak, while imitating the sounds and cadence of human speech. As a beloved family member, we took him on vacation one summer in his cage, firmly belted in and cackling away in the back seat.
In the fall when people were burning leaves, Emma started to develop asthma. She had a reaction bad enough to be rushed to hospital, where they kept her for a week. It was my job to take care of her new hamster, but I was derelict in my duty. When we brought Emma back from hospital, I found the hamster belly up — but still alive. I dashed out with it and got to the vet before closing. The poor thing was in shock and I was given a hair dryer to warm it up. Suddenly the hamster came to life in my hands for a miraculous second, then succumbed. It was now definitely an ex-hamster, and I quickly had to find a credible facsimile. The ruse worked, Emma recovered, and the family zoo was back in business.
Interest eventually waned in the hamster going round and round on its squeaky wheel, so we decided to buy a kitten. Our budgie was especially curious about the new Pip and decided to perch on the kitty’s head. But the next morning Aaron was all stuffed up; he was clearly allergic. He asked that since Emma had a hamster, could he not have something else warm and soft? We let him pick out a gerbil at the pet store, and when he got home, Aaron went around the house with it cupped in his hands, smothering it with kisses. Within an hour he had another allergic reaction, and so we had to take the gerbil back.
Older but hardly wiser, Emma decided to take matters in her own hands, returning from a vacation with a surprise. There, staring up from a cardboard box with red eyes, was a large, white rabbit. She thought she could just cuddle it in bed, because there was no cage, no food, and nowhere to drop its abundant rabbit raisins. She shut it in her closet with newspapers on the floor. Having failed in my childhood as a rabbit wrangler, I insisted Emma get someone to adopt it. A nice kid down the street agreed, before we knew whether or not his parents approved.
The menagerie had to be replenished, but Aaron’s allergies were going to be a problem. The children were told dogs and cats were out of the question, so it was a befuddlement. They conducted some research. Christmas morning we received a gift that read, “Your present will be… a POODLE! They’re hypoallergenic!” What? I never wanted a poodle. “You will get a poodle, and we promise to look after him. And it’s not nice not to accept your presents.” Their astounding logic turned into an offer we couldn’t refuse. Together we managed to find a purebred miniature poodle, with soft, curly black hair. True enough, he caused no allergies. As a bonus, Rupert also thought he was human, so in the end the kids gained a sibling in their Christmas bargain.
© April 2022 by Richard Hancox
