"Bechara" Ned (Poor Ned)

Conversations of pets and animal habits over coffee last weekend reminded me of a story from my childhood I’d totally forgotten about. I’d engaged in many ridiculously WRONG actions and I figure it’s time to confess.
So… voila:
I went to boarding school from grades 7- 9 here in Canada while my parents lived across the Atlantic somewhere. My brother and I would make this journey across the seas twice a year, once at Christmas time and once during the summer. My little sister, way too young to be at boarding school, remained with my parents and would miss us immensely. So the first summer back my brother and I convened at the shopping centre to buy a gift for our younger sister. I must have been 14 at the most and he was 11. We scoured the mall for hours upon hours in an attempt to find something within the budget we’d set out for this endeavor. One can only imagine this amount was peanuts. So after coming to the conclusion that we couldn’t afford anything of value we decided to step into the pet store to check out the puppies. To our pleasant surprise they had hamsters on sale for exactly $6 dollars. Mind you these were vermin who had over fluffed fur but we didn’t care at the time. AWWW how cute its soft and cuddly and its alive. Our excitement reached its peak when we realized with our change not only did we get food for the furry fellow but could manage to get a shiny red cage for him/ her as well! We got back home just in time to catch our shuttle ride to the airport. Bags packed and cage wrapped, my brother and I faced an unplanned obstacle. How would we carry this hamster into the airplane across the Atlantic and into our parents home? Being the “genius” that I am, I figured I’d give it a sleeping pill.. put it in a make up bag or something of the likes in my carry on luggage and life would be good! Course a full sleeping pill might kill the poor thing so I only gave it half… it worked like a charm… we got past airport security don’t ask me how this was obviously pre insanity associated with air travel… buts still I absolutely have noooooooo clue how I managed to get past the sensors without being told that this was a crime of sorts. So there we are on our cross Atlantic flight enjoying the food that comes in those wonderful tin containers when all of a sudden I notice the pouch moving… I immediately start panicking… shiting my pants actually. But I figure the bag is heavy duty enough and it should keep him or her in place till we landed… Having put my “genius” self at ease with this faulty logic, so I decide to take a nap. All of a sudden I wake up to this commotion in the air cabin and my brother is literally in mid air as he pounces on something that is running on the ground. He lands on top of the poor thing and manages not to hurt it.. But the cabin crew has noticed that something is fishy is going on and so come over to see what the commotion was about. I still don’t understand how no one saw the thing run across the floor. Or how no one screamed. Either way, he gets up and goes… “ I was afraid my teddy would fly away” at which point the stewardess smiles with this “he’s so cute with his big eyes” look on her face and brings him back to the seat. He exclaims “you should have given it the whole Pill!” he’s left holding the hamster the rest of the way which, luckily, was approximately half an hour. We land… get out of the airport without a single person questioning the fuzzy ball in his hand… we get home and give the hamster to our sister who is ecstatic. And so we feel this sense of joy come over us as we we’d survived a difficult mission. She named her Ned. She wouldn’t have it any other way even though we repeatedly mentioned the fact that she was a she not a he. A couple of days later we started to notice noises in the middle of the night. It was “Ned”. She was gnawing at the inside of her cage attempting her next escape and in the process keeping us up with the squeaking and scratching her teeth would make on the metal. That summer I d remember distinctly making evil du3a2s every night before bed about that poor thing. When it finally died 2 summers later I couldn’t help but feel responsible. My sister mourned the death with great emotion. She planned a funeral and a ceremony and everything. For two years to come she’d remember the day she died and say she missed her. I have never had the heart to tell my sister about all the horrible things I’d wished upon Ned.

cause for concern?

I’m not certain if I should be a little concerned for how I oogle, ohh and aww every time I walk into a camera store.
I often catch myself salivating at the sight of a beautifully endowed 8 mega pixel Kodak or Nikon. Mental comparisons of size versus zoom capabilities leave me flustered and a little embarrassed when my thought process is interrupted. I get caught up in this whirlwind of imagination and possibility. The glimmering silver and sexy black casing has me inebriated with glee. I can’t help but feel like the LCD screens look at me with yearning as if to scream out “Use and abuse me! I’ll satisfy you”. I'll often ask to see or hold a camera I like in my hand. I play with it like I'm taking a photo sideways, diagonally and vertically. It's precisely at the moment when my heart skips a beat and I decide "I MUST OWN" this camera that i feel bad for the camera I have back home. It's treated me so well. So what if it's a little out of date and clunky. I haven't fully learnt to appreciate it. There is a wonderful comfort that comes with familiarity.... Why then do I take that for granted? And as my heart fills with empathy and fondness for my camera I give back the sales woman the newer shinier, prettier, quicker, more technology savvy one and walk away. I instead smile at the prospect of perhaps filling a picture frame with the fruits of my trustworthy baby.

Tagged

I was tagged by N ages upon ages ago:
list 5 things we dont know about u.

1) Nothing grosses me out more than a fallen strand of hair on my wet skin after a shower. I involuntarily make an Ekhhh face and convulse as I get 2ash3areera/ shivers down my spine.
2) I’m terrified of becoming a has been that’s never actually been.
3) I once slept for 2 days and one night straight.
4) I used to have two orangutans as pets. Sam and Sheila.
5) Hands are my one vice. My one superficial condition. They say so much about a person’s past and present. I can forgo anything but a man with prettier, better kept hands than mine or conversely entirely unkept hands is a definite turn off.

The universe

The universe has this wonderful way of setting you straight sometimes. Just when you stop expecting and come to terms with your reality it finds a way to make a mockery of your understanding of how things are or how they should be. It’s at moments like these that I love the universe most. I haven’t quite figured out if this its way of balancing the scales and giving everyone their fair share or if I’m just far too much of a dreamer, over reader and over analyzer. Do the events really fit into a grand picture or is it just random chaos? Better still is it chaos ruled by order? Comes off as an oxymoron of sorts but I think I like this description best.