Right, let me see...We used to keep tropical fish. My little brother, who was a wee toddler at the time, obviously decided they weren't educated enough, so he dropped some of his books into the tank. No damage done to the fish or the books (being of either the cloth or the thick board variety) so he got a little ticking off and all was well again. Sadly, the next time he did it he used his favourite book - one of those that emits sounds when you press the buttons at the side. Battery powered. Fried fish.
Once, many years ago, I had to look after my next door neighbours gerbils. They stayed in their cage at the end of my bed for most of the week, until I decided that they smelt disgusting. Being the sensible little girl I was, I treated them to a deep bath and rubbed them down with my favourite shampoo and conditioner, then gave them a blow dry with my lovely duck hairdryer. They sat in the corner of the cage looking traumatised until they went home again.
Finally, at the beginning of this year, our hamster passed away. It was a shame, seeing as I had only really bonded with it within the previous couple of months (it had bitten me the first time I'd attempted to handle it, so I avoided him for the best part of two years). I was alone in the house, and despite being upset, I decided it would be best if I moved him into a box ready for burial, as it would probably upset my little brother even more to find him lying prostrate on the floor of the cage. The hamster was covered in it's own piss that it had expelled at the time of death, so being a tad squeamish, I decided to handle it with a rubber glove. Trying to pick the thing up, I felt it squirm! So, having dropped it back into the cage in horror, I debated what to do. Was it still alive? For the next couple of hours I sat watching it, occasionally poking it with a chopstick, to see if it had truly snuffed it. Each time it's little paws moved. Eventually I plucked up the courage to touch it with my bare hands, and found him to be stone cold, thus leading me to the conclusion he really was dead. Fortunately, my dad came home at this point to verify this and put him into the little box coffin I had prepared (complete with name plaque!) and dug a nice deep hole for us to bury him in.
We waited for my little brother to come home from school before we buried him. Afterwards, I told him the whole horrible story and he laughed so much he nearly pissed himself, thus proving I could have avoided the whole horrible mess by leaving the damn hamster in the cage in the first place.
(Once, many years ago, I had to look after my next door neighbours gerbils. They stayed in their cage at the end of my bed for most of the week, until I decided that they smelt disgusting. Being the sensible little girl I was, I treated them to a deep bath and rubbed them down with my favourite shampoo and conditioner, then gave them a blow dry with my lovely duck hairdryer. They sat in the corner of the cage looking traumatised until they went home again.
Finally, at the beginning of this year, our hamster passed away. It was a shame, seeing as I had only really bonded with it within the previous couple of months (it had bitten me the first time I'd attempted to handle it, so I avoided him for the best part of two years). I was alone in the house, and despite being upset, I decided it would be best if I moved him into a box ready for burial, as it would probably upset my little brother even more to find him lying prostrate on the floor of the cage. The hamster was covered in it's own piss that it had expelled at the time of death, so being a tad squeamish, I decided to handle it with a rubber glove. Trying to pick the thing up, I felt it squirm! So, having dropped it back into the cage in horror, I debated what to do. Was it still alive? For the next couple of hours I sat watching it, occasionally poking it with a chopstick, to see if it had truly snuffed it. Each time it's little paws moved. Eventually I plucked up the courage to touch it with my bare hands, and found him to be stone cold, thus leading me to the conclusion he really was dead. Fortunately, my dad came home at this point to verify this and put him into the little box coffin I had prepared (complete with name plaque!) and dug a nice deep hole for us to bury him in.
We waited for my little brother to come home from school before we buried him. Afterwards, I told him the whole horrible story and he laughed so much he nearly pissed himself, thus proving I could have avoided the whole horrible mess by leaving the damn hamster in the cage in the first place.
useful_idiot,
Wed 15 Oct 2003, 19:46,
archived)