Trapped with pets.
That’s me.
I am currently looking after an entire menagerie – my brother’s family has a whole lot of animals. Makes it kind of difficult to go on vacation unless some kind soul takes care of all the little furry things, and slimy things and swimming things.
For some reason most people who like cats rarely stop at one. And my brother’s clan is no different. They’ve had up to four at one time, but they’re down to two right now… only because the third one suffered some kind of cat heart attack. They also have a chinchilla, a couple of rabbits, an aquarium… they used to have phasmatodea – walking sticks, stick bugs, whatever you want to call them, and some kind of freaky-assed centipede the size of a respectable cigar. I’m not sure that was even legal. It was poisonous too, and just down right weird. They used to have three aquariums with frogs and shit, but I guess those things have all died off.
My brother, kind misguided soul that he is, manages to refer to this zoo keeper duty as a nice vacation for me. I mean I get out of the inner city, right? And the grass is green and the birds are singing… Riiight.
Couple of minor details: I’m allergic to the little furry things, so I spend an inordinate amount of time alternately hacking up a lung or trying to rid myself of a great deal of superfluous mucus. Also there’s the whole sleeping-on-the-couch thing. Most of the animal cages are on the second floor so I’m not even going to try and contemplate sleeping there. Plus – the more animals you have, the more weird noises you get. I don’t even know what a chinchilla sounds like, or what it’s good for unless you make a pelt out of it, but I do know that at three thirty in the morning it’s bound to go bonkers in its cage. ‘Cause that’s just the way things are. And cats being cats always make a lot more noise than you’d think. And they like to jump on you while you sleep… it’s a cat thing. And, you know, despite what my brother likes to think this house ain’t in the country. There’s a busy road in spitting distance from where I am uncomfortably pretzelled on the couch.
So why am I being so kind?
I’ve done this before and my brother always says that it’s only because of my inordinate kindness that they can go on vacation. Sword of Damocles? A little. It amounts to a rather sizeable favour I can cash in pretty much any time I like. Not that I’m the kind of calculating, cold hearted sociopath that would ever do that. I love the little animals. And I would never take advantage of the law of reciprocity like that …
ROL
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