I’m playing hooky somewhat from work today. I woke up and spent most of my morning dying in the bathroom. So, I guess that’s not hooky. That’s more gross and probably not something you want a dude making your pizza to be doing. Dying in the bathroom then flipping your dough. Thus, I’m stuck in bed. Admittedly, I think I’ve shit up everything in my body so I’m just kinda awkwardly laying here in bed while my stomach makes weird Chewbaca noises at me. So, why not ignore the wookie noises by writing…
As always if you’d like to join along you can with this link: http://30daychallengearchive.tumblr.com/post/832610035/writing-prompt-30-day-challenge
Day 11 —What was your first childhood pet? Describe it in detail.
So, this one is weird, because I remember vaguely my first childhood pet as being a “Lassie” knock-off. As in he was the same breed, but I was so young I just don’t remember anything about him. I’m pretty sure he ran away when I was like 4 or 5. He was probably saving Timmy from falling into a well or was just like, “Fuck this weird fat baby. Imma find me some bitches” and just kind of left. He left a small child like a runaway dad, except when he says, “bitches” it’s not degrading and is the proper term for a female dog. So, I guess that gives him slightly less street-cred now. The first animal/”pet” I kinda had, or at least have a full memory of was a cat named, Meiko. I found Meiko on the side of the road nearly dying. I remember taking her in my arms as she gently mewed. We got her home and placed her under a big evergreen tree we had in our back yard. I spent most of the afternoon with her trying to revive her and keep her alive. I fed her. I gave her water. I gave her a nice cage with a bed. Alas, to no avail she passed on the next day. So, my first chance at taking care of a thing went rather depressingly. The best part is we went on a vacation the next day, and I specifically remember my Dad comforting me and telling me we would give her a proper burial when we got back. A week later, I returned and somehow hoped in my child-like naivety that the warm summer sun would somehow revive her and I could maybe have my sweet cat back! Instead I found out that cat’s can actually melt. This cat was straight-up Puss-In-Boots stew and melted to the floor. All that was left was some fur stuck to the cage. My first pet resulted in my father making loud dry heaves as he had to hose down melted feline. I haven’t had the best of luck around pets. Let’s hope Sarah McGlachlin doesn’t stumbled across this blog. Her and the SPCA may put like a hit out on me or something. Sorry Meiko =(