Never had a pet that I could genuinely call my own, but my family has kept countless of goldfishes and guppies, a humongous luo han fish whose brain is one-tenth of its size (it banged its head against the tank to death), a handful of what they call it "eat shit" fishes, two terrapins and now my sister keeps a fighting fish. Mostly marine animals.
What I'd call 'my pets' would be anything I adopt, living or non-living, real or imaginary. I like living in my own world for awhile sometimes.
Googled 'Seath Enzo Xackery' with my fingers crossed and voila!
"Meet Minnie.
She's one fat cat and she doesn't run after mice at the sight of 'em. Now, that explains why. But she has the gentlest purr and charming, blueish-gray eyes that gaze so deep into yours it makes you wonder if she can read your mind. Perhaps she does, except she doesn't really respond to it."
She was introduced to me in November. She's not mine, but we live in the same estate. She's not mine, but I'd take her home and hug her to sleep if I could. She's not mine, nor yours, but I'd very much like to call her ours. Every night, I'd take an awkward route home, just to walk past the playground, in hope to spot her curling herself up underneath the bench as always, but to no avail for months.
I miss her very much. I hope she's in safe hands, or at the very least breathing. Won't you come back already, Minnie?
Left to right: Horni, Tardy, Lammy.
Horni was my first pet cactus. He was a Christmas gift from Wingleng. No, it's not just a plant. It's my pet, because I talk to it and because he actually meant something. You were my listening ear, and you meant something. He lasted for 3 months. I promised to bury it by the beach, where I can keep its presence at least, but Mom threw it down the rubbish shoot when I was unaware, because she knew how attached I was to it and that I'd never bear to throw it away. I was too used to having you as a best friend for me to discard this friendship despite the endless disputes. Horni was holding on to his last breath by then and she said it's inauspicious to have something dying in the house so she did what she did. Horni was dead and gone. Our friendship was dead and gone.
But I got over Horni's death. Once again, we crossed the hurdle. You accompanied me to the plant farm to buy me new pet cactuses, where we found Tardy and Lammy after much of my fickle-mindedness. They lived, at least for more than 3 months, that is. Things seemed to be going well, but I emphasize on the word 'seemed'. Tardy and Lammy were healthy and strong. The bond between us was tight. As time passed and as my schedule started filling up, I gave up watering them. They didn't seem to crumble like Horni did though. They still lie on my desk, in front of the tv. Their complexions don't look too healthy, but hey, they're still alive. They're still there, yet they're not. You're still there, but there's no You anymore.
To my dear cactuses: If you ever see this, all I wanna say is... I'm sorry that I drowned you on certain weeks and dehydrated you on the rest. I'm sorry I don't have green hands. I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry I didn't fight hard enough to keep you.
They're all dead and gone. I wish I could've guarded them better and kept them alive. I wish things didn't die so easily in my hands. I wish.
Don't judge me after reading this post okay. I'm not mentally unstable or brain-damaged, I'm still sane. Hahahahah. Like what Gerald said, it's just me to grow attached to things easily.
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