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This is where you stick random tidbits of information about yourself.
Age 23, living in sin in Twickenham with Cheesy
Likes
Movies
Books
Writing
Theatre
Hugs
Kittens
Chess
Scrabble (mostly beating Cheesy's butt)
Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Dislikes
Vegetables
Arguments
Cleaning
Trashy TV
Pretensions
Public Transport
Pets
Rabbits-Bambi, Fern, Sooty, Pippa-all deceased
Dog-Sammy-deceased :(
Fish-CatFlap-recently (and finally!) deceased
Cat-Tiggy-still scratching
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Technically Rachel
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Monday, October 06, 2003
Memorial
'Tis indeed the end of an era. September 1997, I attended the cruddy little fair that turns up in Chorley every now and again. Having been out having a few drinkies here and there (at the illegal age of 17 - don't gasp, I was lucky if I could move for 14 year olds in Chorley pubs), I became excited at the idea of playing a fair ground game. Imagine my excitement when I won a fish (surely a thrill for anyone with enough units in their blood). In my mind I figured it would die within a week anyway - don't they always. This was reinforced by the fact that when I balanced him on a bar some hours later he fell right over, most of his water going everywhere. Perhaps this one little incident made him a survivor. Because a month went by, and he didn't die. A year went by - didn't die. By this point I was heading out to a life of University, which unfortunately leaves little room for a wet pet. My poor Momo was left looking after yet another pet, not having the heart to just claim it died and flush him down the toilet like most would. After another year, surviving my Momo's attention I realised he planned on sticking around so I figured I should probably name him. Henceforth, he became Catflap. Ironically, the cat (Tiggy) paid not the slightest attention to him the whole time he was there. Yes, the past tense here indicates that but days ago, after seven years and 1 month of swimming around in circles in the same goldfish bowl, Catflap has finally signed up for that big ocean in the sky. Seven years! Who knew a grubby little fairground fish could last so long? After such a good innings, it seemed wrong that he be flushed through our sewerage system, and Popo buried him near Sammy at that bottom of the garden (Sammy the dog, by the way).
Poor thing must have been bored stupid in our kitchen. Either that or it was television to him.
MrBenj - you can have your goldfish bowl back now.
2:00 pm
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