“Look Mummy,” the kids shriek excitedly, yanking me towards a surprise waiting on the coffee table. It’s big, square and covered in a blanket. My first thought is, it’s a budgie. My second is, there’s no such thing as a no-fault divorce.
My husband’s been campaigning for years for a second pet “for the kids”. I’ve vetoed the rabbit (“I’ll stew it”), the Mexican walking fish (“Will you get a mullet, too?”) and the budgie (“I’m sure your next wife will love one”).
I stumble through the door after three weeks away, and what’s he bought? A rat. Yep, vermin. Except this precious rodent cost $25, with $80 chucked in for the Hilton of cages, complete with a shelter, a mirror and a wheel he’s evidently too thick to use. (Of course it’s a he – they chose the one with the biggest balls on the grounds that females are “hormonal and bitey”.) Did I mention the cage is maroon? A colour I hate possibly even more than rats.
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You can pet a human, but you really shouldn’t human a pet. Things can get… a bit sick.
No, not in a Monaghan kind of way. Wash your mouth out. In an awww-i-wuv-my-widdle-wascal-so-much-I-just-wanna-dress-him-up-like-a-real-little-boy kind of way.
Going overboard on the pet love can nauseate your friends and family, and can make you really – really – sick. Some people anthropomorphise their pets to the point where they forget that pets don’t floss or use alcohol-based sanitation gels as often as they should.
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