Wednesday, May 06, 2009
I am a horrible care-taker of pets
My final days in the dorms are coming to an end. Dorm life has been good to me; I’ve been able to make some really great friends, have a safe and comfortable room, and take long hot showers. But, I’m definitely ready to move out into the new house a couple of my buddies and I are leasing. No more silly open house hour restrictions or bed-shaking reverberations from Halo 3 machine gun fire at two in the morning. One of the things I’m particularly excited about is getting a pet. My family back in Arkansas has a basset hound named Jabba, but we were never really friends.
So, in preparation for my eventual purchase of a really cool and lovable animal companion, (baby gorilla, koala bear, walrus, etc.) I decided I’d start small and buy some goldfish…
(Warning: Graphic Content Ahead)
Sunday night my friend picked up some fish and some goldfish flake food from Meijers. I was really excited and began to bond with my new pets. I started naming a few of them: Flagstaff, Pooh, Jim, and Abraham Lincoln. They were quite a nice addition to my room.
By 5 p.m. on Monday, every single fish was dead.
How the heck did this happen?! Now I’m no ichthyologist, but I did make a serious effort to keep those suckers alive. I fed them, nurtured them, even read them some poetry during their extremely short time spent living in my room!
In light of this recent tragedy, I am postponing my greater aspirations until a later date when I can afford to hire an animal caretaker.