My Mismanaged Menagerie
I DIDN’T MEAN TO KILL THEM — HONEST.
At least I wasn’t in charge of our cats and dogs when I was a kid. But when you’re in grade school they don’t teach how to look after rabbits, hamsters, goldfish, turtles, a snake, and what else… oh yes, ‘chameleons.’ That’s what they said they were when we bought them at the exhibition. “Get your live chameleons here — guaranteed to change colour before your eyes!” I spent my hard-earned allowance on those common lizards, only to watch them stay a muted green no matter what colourful surface I put them on. I enjoyed watching the two ‘chameleons’ eat. There were flies on my bedroom window screen, and I gaped in astonishment as the lizards snatched their prey. Their elongated tongues were faster than a fly swatter, stickier than fly paper. The flies had no chance.
Within a week it came to an end. To keep my exotic pets from escaping I made the mistake of closing the glass window in my bedroom behind them while they rested on the screen. It had the effect of refocussing the sun’s rays like a magnifying glass. At the end of a hot day I came home and checked my chameleons. What I saw hanging there were two unidentifiable, black crisps — which, when touched, crumbled to ashes, leaving the tiny claws still attached.
Goldfish seemed a safer bet. Anybody could take care of them, right? If you don’t have a proper fish tank though, you have to change their water often. I remembered to sprinkle the dried food in their bowl — lots of it. It got to the point where the water was so cloudy you couldn’t see the fish for the fish food. It was hard to change their water, and I could never get that noxious gravel in the bottom clean. I tried to make up for my negligence by giving them more food, but they’d inevitably be found belly up, killed with kindness.
The baby turtles didn’t fare much better. My brother and I thought we’d learned how to care for them at the pet store. Always check the underside of their shells to make sure they don’t go soft. If they flip on their backs, turn them right side up. All fine if you’re not at school or playing outside. After discovering them turned-turtle once too often, as dead as goldfish, our interest waned.
Maybe a snake would be more exciting. I caught one at the cottage and proudly brought it in to show my mother. She ordered me out. I sat quietly on a rock and enjoyed the garter snake running delicately through my fingers. Thinking it might be hungry, I dangled a frog in front it. With lightning speed the serpent struck. I watched in horror as its savage head engulfed the frog, then slowly worked the struggling amphibian down its writhing body. Is it any wonder I developed a snake phobia?
After my earlier achievements with reptiles it was time to move up to nicer, warmer-blooded creatures — the softer and furrier the better. Who hasn’t had a hamster? So cuddly, so cute… so boring. They were never bored with their squeaky wheels. I had a few hamsters when I was a kid, but every one turned out the same — basically existing from one moment to the next, with little consciousness, and zero appreciation for my efforts at caregiving. I gave them away before I could do amy harm.
My father must have felt sorry for me, because he came home one time with two rabbits. We built a cage outside with chicken wire, and he helped me feed them. But the rabbits weren’t much smarter than hamsters, and consequently didn’t last long. One morning I found them lying outside the chicken wire. All that remained was some bloodied fur, and two grotesquely skinned hides. Their bodies were gone. I still I don’t know what happened, so if you have any idea let me know.
Thank goodness for the dogs in our family. We went through four, but they offered relative stability and gave reciprocal love. In the end my mismanaged menagerie prepared me for when my kids had their own collection: hamsters, a gerbil, two budgies, a cat, a miniature poodle, goldfish, and a rabbit (I resisted the Easter chicks.) When things didn’t work out, it was always Dad who buried them in the back yard, or took them to the vet. It seemed to be my destiny.
© March 2022 by Richard Hancox
