I hope my family will forgive me for these next few posts.
Since my mom came home a few weeks ago with a new pet rat, I’ve decided it’s time to give a little look inside my household. I live with my mom, dad and older sister, Jessie. I also live with some sort of bird, a bearded dragon (and his live cricket snacks), Buster (of course), a worm farm (I think), and, most recently, a rat named Jojo. I live in a zoo — and not the kind of zoo I’d pay money to visit, but the kind of zoo that keeps companies like Pest Control in business.
It all started when I left for college — every time I’d come home from school, I would find a new cage housing a creature that my parents falsely believed constituted as a pet (my parents were obviously grieving the empty space I’d left in their hearts and home). For that reason, I have diagnosed them with a severely debilitating case of Empty Nest syndrome.
Unfortunately, things haven’t gotten better since I’ve moved back in with them. Their animal hoarding behavior continues, and despite my best efforts, I’m afraid they’re on the fast track to a life spent harvesting cat nip and watching Whale Wars.
I’m not 100 percent sure what kind of bird we have, but his name is Mr. Darcy and I wouldn’t mind popping him in the oven and serving him au gratin to Buster.
He’s incredibly annoying and I’m convinced he hates me. When he squawks at me, my dad says, “he’s just trying to talk to you, Jo” — but I know better. He uses a completely different tone with me than he does with my other family members. He “sings” for them. For me, he makes the same sound as he does when Buster enters the room. It is a song of violence and hate. I’m considering suiting him up in Koty’s old electric fence collar, but I’m not sure how that will stop his chirping…unless he tries to fly over the invisible fence, but that would probably be the end of Mr. Darcy (which I’d be okay with, but by the looks of my checking account, I’m in no position to piss off my parents).
My dad loves to walk around the house in his Crocs with Darcy on his shoulder. The sight couldn’t make me any more nauseous. Darcy used to have a female companion, but I’m not sure what happened to her. I make it a point not to keep up-to-date with Darcy’s social life to let my parents know that under no circumstances will Darcy and I become friends.
The bearded dragon’s name is Tommy, but my sister and I like to think he looks more like a Lawrence. My mom carries him around in a little travel tote, not unlike the travel totes in which rich women carry around their teacup Yorkies. The other day, my mom told me that she had to run an errand while she had Tommy with her, so she “had no choice” but to take him into the store with her. I didn’t ask why Tommy was running errands with her in the first place, but I can’t say I was surprised. I’m honestly pretty upset that I wasn’t there to witness it, though — can you imagine? The women in the store walk up to my mom, hoping to catch a glimpse of the newborn puppy they think is sleeping in the tiny tote. And then my mom opens the flap and out pops Lawrence.
Other than when he’s in his travel tote, Tommy lives a pretty comfortable life. He has both an indoor cage and an outdoor cage, and my dad often lets him loose in the backyard to explore the garden. One time, my sister came home to find my mom and my dad standing in the front lawn staring at something. Upon closer inspection, she realized that my mom was holding a leash and taking Tommy for a “walk” in the front yard. Yes, Tommy has a harness, much like the Gentle Leaders that have recently become so popular with dogs.
To be continued….because there’s just too much to fit in one post.