Three days
Sep. 15th, 2006 05:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
todayiamadaisyWednesday
Brian Next Door was pruning shrubs in his front garden as I went past on my way to the shop for the papers. "Busman's holiday," he said by way of greeting (he's a gardener by trade). It emerged that his wife and daughter have gone to visit her mother for three weeks, so "the boys and I are batching."
"We got back from Tullamarine (NB: Melbourne airport) on Monday night and Ben went out to feed the guinea pigs and he comes back in, saying, 'Dad, one of them's dead'. So we buried him in the garden, and we bought a new one on the way home from school yesterday."
"Then this morning, I happened to look out the window into the birdcage, and there's Edward's budgie lying on the bottom of the cage, feet in the air. When Edward came out for breakfast I had to say, 'Edward, I've got some bad news,' and he said, 'What have I done now?' And it was nothing he'd done, but why do they have to wait till Kim's away?"
Thursday
There was a knock at the back door while I was sweeping and I looked out the window to see Edward, holding a box and looking pale. "Come in!"
He came in and stood in the doorway of the living room, and said quickly, "Would you like this cat food? Mopsy died last night and I thought your cat might want it."
"Mopsy? Oh, that's sad. Of course, yes, we'll have the cat food, thank you."
"Right, thanks." He put the box on the kitchen bench, and left before I could say anything else.
Today
Brian saw me out feeding the magpies and came over. "Will you feed the guinea pigs starting tomorrow? The boys and I are going to my brother's for the school holidays. You know where the dry food is, and you can pick some vegies out of the garden for them too."
"Yeah, sure. All care, no responsibility."
"Well, we'd be unlucky to lose any more pets. Three in a week is pretty rough. Edward was pretty cut up about Mopsy. He sat in his room for a while then came out and said he was going to see if you wanted the cat food. I didn't have the heart to tell him I thought your cat only eats the posh stuff." He glanced pointedly at Miss Pink, asleep on her sheepskin-covered sun lounge. "I didn't think you'd turn him down, anyway."
"Of course not. Anyway, she'll eat the biscuits," I told him, "and it won't hurt her to try the tins. And if she doesn't eat it..." I gestured at the magpies, who started one of their carolling choruses.
Brian Next Door was pruning shrubs in his front garden as I went past on my way to the shop for the papers. "Busman's holiday," he said by way of greeting (he's a gardener by trade). It emerged that his wife and daughter have gone to visit her mother for three weeks, so "the boys and I are batching."
"We got back from Tullamarine (NB: Melbourne airport) on Monday night and Ben went out to feed the guinea pigs and he comes back in, saying, 'Dad, one of them's dead'. So we buried him in the garden, and we bought a new one on the way home from school yesterday."
"Then this morning, I happened to look out the window into the birdcage, and there's Edward's budgie lying on the bottom of the cage, feet in the air. When Edward came out for breakfast I had to say, 'Edward, I've got some bad news,' and he said, 'What have I done now?' And it was nothing he'd done, but why do they have to wait till Kim's away?"
Thursday
There was a knock at the back door while I was sweeping and I looked out the window to see Edward, holding a box and looking pale. "Come in!"
He came in and stood in the doorway of the living room, and said quickly, "Would you like this cat food? Mopsy died last night and I thought your cat might want it."
"Mopsy? Oh, that's sad. Of course, yes, we'll have the cat food, thank you."
"Right, thanks." He put the box on the kitchen bench, and left before I could say anything else.
Today
Brian saw me out feeding the magpies and came over. "Will you feed the guinea pigs starting tomorrow? The boys and I are going to my brother's for the school holidays. You know where the dry food is, and you can pick some vegies out of the garden for them too."
"Yeah, sure. All care, no responsibility."
"Well, we'd be unlucky to lose any more pets. Three in a week is pretty rough. Edward was pretty cut up about Mopsy. He sat in his room for a while then came out and said he was going to see if you wanted the cat food. I didn't have the heart to tell him I thought your cat only eats the posh stuff." He glanced pointedly at Miss Pink, asleep on her sheepskin-covered sun lounge. "I didn't think you'd turn him down, anyway."
"Of course not. Anyway, she'll eat the biscuits," I told him, "and it won't hurt her to try the tins. And if she doesn't eat it..." I gestured at the magpies, who started one of their carolling choruses.
