My First Pet (Story Teller’s Assignment #4)

Yesterday I took part in a survey trying to find a correlation between the ownership of pets and levels of happiness – I answered something along the lines of “No, I don’t have a pet but yes, I’m happy”. It made me think of when I was younger and how much I desperately wanted an animal to care for, so desperate that I wrote and published a cringeworthy poem called “I Want A Pet” in which I said “I’d really love a dog, but I’d settle for a frog”. Oh dear. My wish did come true at around the same time though as I got not one pet but three – three little fishies who were given the world’s most original names. There was Goldie the, er, goldfish and Blackey who had a black eye and Whitey who appeared to have an albino tail. They’ve all been dead for a very long time now and I’ve still never had any other pets – big or small (unless we’re counting Gary the snail who lived in a box for a week or the hedgehog who I used to feed when he visited my garden) and I’ve got no plans to get one soon. Why? Because I’d only end up wasting spending my money on stuff as cool as this:

Although I have always wanted a giant African day eh?