Internets back up all over the office. Yay.
My aunt: We are getting a new room!
Me : *wonders who ‘we’ are*…oh…okay…
Aunt : All to ourselves!
Me : *gets it*
Cause my aunt works on Mondays and Thursdays only, and the rest of the days some other doctor comes in. So she means we’ll have our own personal room.
And by her using the word ‘we’, I surmised that she expects me to stay for a looonnggg time more. Sweat.
So I turned down a job at Section 14. Sigh.
The sacrifices I make.
I LOVE FACEBOOK!
I also love my Astro Max beyond limits you can imagine. You have NO idea how many shows I watch now that I always forgot/didn’t know about.
Anyway, as the title says, this post is about my CHILDHOOD QUIRKS. This is one experience I had.
When I was small (about 5 years old), my dog Rusty (his coat was the colour of rust) died. He was a gleaming longhaired Dachshund. My parents got him in 1981 as a month old puppy. My dad was so concerned about it when it first came home because it was so scared, so he emptied out his cricket bag and stuffed in a pillow and bone and placed it inside to sleep. Apparently he stayed up the whole night to take care of it.
Fast forward to 13 years later.
Rusty was actually recovering from a surgery and so was tied up the whole day. A month later, it was allowed the rare treat of bread. It was so happy and its tail wagged so hard after ages. I was feeling so sorry for it, so I begged and pleaded (and shouted) at my parents to let it loose for 5 minutes to have a bit of fun at around 6.30pm. Finally, they did, and as soon as it set off, a thunderstorm started. We couldn’t bring him back in since the rain was beating down on us, and it just kept running to release its pent up energy.
Suddenly, it just collapsed, mid run. I was so shocked, and my dad immediately rushed into the rain to get him inside. It was too late, and so my dad took him to PAWS to be buried. Everyone refused to let me go so I was so angry. But I was also blaming myself for letting him run and overfeeding him. It got so bad that my sister who hated monopoly so much told me to set everything up to play. Also everyone was saying ‘Its not your fault, he’s gone to Animal Heaven, its nobody’s fault’. In the end my sister was lazy to play so I just sat there watching TV while my mom hovered over me anxiously.
My dad came back later having stopped on his way to get us all Pizza Hut and KFC’s Jelly Ice-cream. I think everyone was feeling sorry for me cause Rusty was my first dog, whereas it was my moms 6th, and my dad and sisters’ 3rd.
Anyway, after that my parents were reluctant to get another dog, but I really wanted one. So, my dad got me this life sized stuffed Basset Hound. I used a skipping rope as a leash, wrapping it around the poor dog (Stuffy)’s neck and pulled it all around the house. My mom kept muttering ‘I feel so sorry for that toy’.
Stuffy even ‘came to pick me up from school’ once! Some more on that day my primary English teacher asked for a lift since she lived nearby, and she was looking at Stuffy with a bewildered across her face. Hahaha!
Anyway, I grew out of lugging Stuffy around after a while and my mom was so glad cause she was afraid I’ll get allergies or something. She ‘sent Stuffy for a wash’ so often. Then, finally in standard five, my mom decided that Stuffy wasn’t gonna enjoy himself being kept, neglected, on top of my book cupboard and so he was sent off to doggy-heaven.
Me : Ma, I’m not a kid. If you wanna throw it, throw it.
Mom : *glares*
Next on the list : My fixation with making my toys their own bedrooms.
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