Your first pet was likely the result of an extended crying jag at your parent’s feet. You probably sat on your porch steps with a turtle, stray kitten or mange-ridden dog and begged to keep the filthy insect incubator – begged until your parents ran screaming into the street with their hair on fire.
You said it was all you ever wanted; you would never, ever ask for anything else in your life; you would bathe, feed and love this creature forever and ever. Even then you knew, in your selfish little heart, that someone else would clean the carpet mess, the cage bottom, the litter box and pay the vet bills. All you had to do was run and play, and on that occasional energetic day, perhaps feed it. You didn’t care when others got upset when Rex made muskrat love to their leg, peed on the Oriental carpet, or chewed on dirty jockey shorts.
Your second pet is the result of your offspring doing the same thing to you.
Scarlett
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