Well.
Hello again.
Since this thing seems to have been read by someone (thanks to a certain blond, nerdy lesbian unionist that we all know and tolerate (the whore)) I suppose an update is in order.
So here it is.
Well obviously, you're reading it.
Moving on!
I have some tragic news for you all. Yes, the other fish has recently passed on. Circumstances are similar to the other one, though pro biotic poison does not seem to have played a part in Sherlock's (possibly) untimely demise. He's swimming with the angels now, his little fishy soul, swimming into the aquatic abyss
*Moments Silence*
Goodnight sweet prince, and may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
On the subjects of pets popping their clogs, I find myself looking back on my own furry (and non furry) familiars over the years. I find myself thinking that either I'm a terrible owner, or I always pick bad ones.
Let me take you back now, to my first ever proper pet (I say proper, as I cant remember anything before that, apart from some goldfish called Flotsam and Jetsum, and lets face it, Ive exhausted the fishy material)
But anyway, my first pet was a snow white rabbit that I called, in my all my four year old charm, Snuggles (Stop snickering, I was only little). Snuggles was adorable, everything you wanted in a pet, small, quiet, didn't require to much attention and cute to look at. And pregnant at the time of purchase, as it turned out. Yes, shortly after we got her, and after she maimed me by biting my finger I might add (a grievous injury to a four old), she popped out, if memory serves, seven kittens, which she went on to kill, including my own personal favourite, Jumpy (wipe that smirk off your face right now)
Not too long after her wiping out her offspring, she disappeared for a day or two. Having drawn the conclusion she had escaped and was now probably a menace to the woodland world, we were much surprised when she was suddenly outside the back door, barbed wire around her fluffy white neck.
Twas rather strange and scarring.
Moving on! (again)
A large dog, and three cats (one of which we still have) later, I had since moved from Enniscorthy out to Kiltealy, into a lime green mobile home (which you should not talk to me about ever) to my current home.
A...certain length of time after I moved in here, we got two terrapins and named them Darcy and Yoda (I was in the middle of my Pride and Prejudice phase, it was awesome, you start using words like amiable and advantageous in regular conversation). If you're thinking of getting terrapins, don't. They do fuck all all day and cost a fortune to keep. They're nice to look at for about ten minutes, then you get bored and wish you had bought a DS or something. Not unfortunately they died soon after, in what seemed to be simultaneous suicide.
Luckily for me (I didn't poison them I swear), this resulted in an empty tank, suitable for a reptile of some description. Having had been whining to my parents for the last ages to get me a snake, they now had no more excuses, other than my mothers Heebie Jeebies.
So on my fifteenth birthday, I got a small coral called Zafrina (I was in the middle of my Breaking Dawn phase, mock me later) I instantly knew we would hit it off in the pet shop, when my brother picked her up and she peed on him.
Then once again, tragedy struck, on Mothers Days, a mere three months after I got her, I came home from a day out at the garden centre (that is what one does on Mothers Day, despite the size of ones garden), to find her coiled an stiff, her once vibrant colour faded, due to her sudden, violent and irreversible cessation of life.
*Another moments silence*
She is buried beneath my favourite tree in the garden, a large sycamore with red leaves and easy to climb. She is and will always be sorely missed.
One might draw the conclusion that I think pets should be avoided altogether, but to the contrary, I find nothing more rewarding than caring and nurturing something, and having it repay you by pissing on your brother.
I leave you with this wisdom
Good luck
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Who needs fish anyway?
Well. Kids birthdays. Yeah.
Today was my cousins second birthday. And as is the custom, there was a small party to celebrate. Screaming toddlers galore
Deciding her gift was a bit tricky. Seeing as she's one of those kids who has everything, it was a bit of a conundrum. But, after having a bit of a think, I had a stroke of genius, and told my mother that we should get her some goldfish. My mother was impressed. I have to admit to a smug pat on the back to myself.
So in we went, we picked out two fish, one a rather violent orange, the other black with bulging eyes. We even got a tank with a pink lid.
So we brought them home, let them out, and fed them. So far, things were going well.
Then the first blow. My other cousin, Bobby, nearly two himself, in his childlike exuberance, continually kept trying to catch them. But this was not the worst part, oh no. In the, oh about 40 seconds, no one was watching him, the child got an Actimel, saw the fish, and.... yes. He poured the whole fecking thing in. Luckily, we managed to get them out before any serious damage was done. Or so we hoped.
Then, B day. By this stage I had named the fish Sherlock and Watson (which was later changed to Mickey and Minne, to my dismay) Before we left, I poured some water out, so I wouldn't get drenched in the car (I had to pour more out when we stopped, my mams cardigan will never be worn again, as I put it beneath the bowl in a vain attempt to keep my jeans dry.
So we left, me in the backseat, holding the bowl precariously on my knee, trying to prevent the water from splashing everywhere, the amount of fecking potholes in the road making it utterly impossible. Somehow, the water even made it to the front seat. How, I have no idea.
But alas! We made it to my uncles house (relatively) dry, and fish still swimming around happily (Do fish feel happiness?)
Needless to say, my cousin was delighted with her gift, and spent a monumental thirty seconds admiring them, before running out to the bouncy castle in the backyard (I have to admit, it was a pretty big bouncy castle) The adults were equally impressed with them. Who knew fish could be so popular.
So the party went on, with rice crispie buns, marshmallows, and an indeterminate amount of toddlers running around the place. The cake was cut, 'Happy Birthday' was sung badly, and the birthday girl was blinded by flashes.
Then, tragedy struck. Actual tragedy. I moved over, to admire our gift once more, as we were leaving shortly, and saw something....odd, with the orange one. It was completely still, not the slightest movement of it fins, its mouth wide open in an expression that was fecking creepy. I tapped the bowl. I tapped it again. I tried shifting it, so it would move. Nothing happened.
"Oh balls" I said. At this stage, my uncle came over, took one look at my shocked face, and at the tank.
"Ah Jaysus" he cried loudly " Mia your fish are dead"
I smacked my hand to my forehead and told him to shut up. Then I told my mother of the sudden bereavement. She seemed to think we could return it.
We left soon after, lestr, God forbid, the other one popped its clogs.
Cause of death remains unknown. Pro-biotic poisoning, travel sickness and bad luck remain the most likely candidates.
But who knows, maybe it was lupus?
Today was my cousins second birthday. And as is the custom, there was a small party to celebrate. Screaming toddlers galore
Deciding her gift was a bit tricky. Seeing as she's one of those kids who has everything, it was a bit of a conundrum. But, after having a bit of a think, I had a stroke of genius, and told my mother that we should get her some goldfish. My mother was impressed. I have to admit to a smug pat on the back to myself.
So in we went, we picked out two fish, one a rather violent orange, the other black with bulging eyes. We even got a tank with a pink lid.
So we brought them home, let them out, and fed them. So far, things were going well.
Then the first blow. My other cousin, Bobby, nearly two himself, in his childlike exuberance, continually kept trying to catch them. But this was not the worst part, oh no. In the, oh about 40 seconds, no one was watching him, the child got an Actimel, saw the fish, and.... yes. He poured the whole fecking thing in. Luckily, we managed to get them out before any serious damage was done. Or so we hoped.
Then, B day. By this stage I had named the fish Sherlock and Watson (which was later changed to Mickey and Minne, to my dismay) Before we left, I poured some water out, so I wouldn't get drenched in the car (I had to pour more out when we stopped, my mams cardigan will never be worn again, as I put it beneath the bowl in a vain attempt to keep my jeans dry.
So we left, me in the backseat, holding the bowl precariously on my knee, trying to prevent the water from splashing everywhere, the amount of fecking potholes in the road making it utterly impossible. Somehow, the water even made it to the front seat. How, I have no idea.
But alas! We made it to my uncles house (relatively) dry, and fish still swimming around happily (Do fish feel happiness?)
Needless to say, my cousin was delighted with her gift, and spent a monumental thirty seconds admiring them, before running out to the bouncy castle in the backyard (I have to admit, it was a pretty big bouncy castle) The adults were equally impressed with them. Who knew fish could be so popular.
So the party went on, with rice crispie buns, marshmallows, and an indeterminate amount of toddlers running around the place. The cake was cut, 'Happy Birthday' was sung badly, and the birthday girl was blinded by flashes.
Then, tragedy struck. Actual tragedy. I moved over, to admire our gift once more, as we were leaving shortly, and saw something....odd, with the orange one. It was completely still, not the slightest movement of it fins, its mouth wide open in an expression that was fecking creepy. I tapped the bowl. I tapped it again. I tried shifting it, so it would move. Nothing happened.
"Oh balls" I said. At this stage, my uncle came over, took one look at my shocked face, and at the tank.
"Ah Jaysus" he cried loudly " Mia your fish are dead"
I smacked my hand to my forehead and told him to shut up. Then I told my mother of the sudden bereavement. She seemed to think we could return it.
We left soon after, lestr, God forbid, the other one popped its clogs.
Cause of death remains unknown. Pro-biotic poisoning, travel sickness and bad luck remain the most likely candidates.
But who knows, maybe it was lupus?
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