Memoir Monday: Remembering my first pet
Remembering my first pet
But when I turned 15, a boy who was in love with me, gave me a rabbit. It was a small gray rabbit, which I named Candy. The purpose of that gift, as this boy confessed to me, was for that pet to unite us, to be like a son between the two of us and that with the excuse of seeing him daily and asking for him, he could visit me at my house.
Among the conditions my parents set out to accept Candy was that I would notice her. So I brought Candy's house for my room and her food. It was the rabbit who woke me up every day, because he would jump into my bed, there I would play with him for a while, and after returning from school, I would take him for a walk. I would put a ribbon around his neck and walk around the block with my rabbit in my arms. There was always someone who wanted to touch him or hold him.
We made a big mistake. That night, after Rommel left, I took Candy to her little house and went to sleep. The next day, I was surprised because Candy had not jumped into my bed, so I went to look for her in her cottage and she was dead. She had purged or poisoned herself with a plant and we didn't notice. I remember that I screamed in pain and my parents were very scared, believing the worst. When they saw Candy's little body, they were the ones who diagnosed a poisoning with a plant from the garden. I could not believe it, I was so traumatized: my first pet had only lasted me 8 days, but that atrocious memory would last me all my life.
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