The Donners’ dog just ate the pet of the month, and I’ve called Phoebe to come right over.
The Donners are the people I baby-sit for. They have one three-year-old kid, Donny, whom Phoebe and I refer to privately as the Little Nerdlet.
They also have a dog, Aardvark. Aardvark is the one who just ate the pet of the month.
The Donners joined this club that sends some little pet to kids each month. Last month it was a goldfish. It died in two days. The Little Nerdlet and I held a burial at sea, actually down the toilet.
So today the new pet arrived. I took the package out of the mailbox and brought it inside. The Little Nerdlet had to go to the bathroom. I went with him. He likes company while he’s sitting there.
Aardvark got the package off the table, and by the time I came back the paper was shredded all over.
From the torn feeding instructions and the little pieces of shell, it seems obvious that the pet of the month was once a turtle.
As I wait for Phoebe to arrive at the Donner house, I think of something my father always says about life: “Rosie, it’s a dog-eat-dog world.”
In Phoebe’s and my lives, I guess, it’s an aardvark-eat-turtle world.