The Stromquist family kept numerous pets which, excepting one, did not qualify as pets in any meaningful sense of the word. Although my sister and I did try to tell them apart and even name them, a bunch of doomed ants crawling around in a plastic prison trying to look busy do not offer much in the way of companionship, and are useless when it comes time to entertain guests with stupid pet tricks. Likewise, a couple of goldfish swimming aimlessly in a glass tomb holds one’s interest for not very long, even when they’d chase each other through their algae-encrusted castle. And besides, we didn’t want to get too attached because they frequently died. The turtles, on the other hand, were kind of amusing to watch and at least we could pick them up and hold them. But the temptation to put them on their backs and watch them struggle to right themselves proved irresistible and ultimately led to reproach from my mother and terrible guilt.
© 2024 Eric Stromquist
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