Growing up on a small holding in Chartwell was tough for an up and coming socialite. At that stage, the closest shop was at Fourways Mall and to get there by ox cart took ages. I jest. We had a cream Jetta, but close enough.
Now, I’m not sure if this is my earliest memory, but its one of the strongest.
It was a Saturday and we were
harvesting the fields playing in the garden and I had been harassing mom and dad to take me to the pet store for a fish tank. I’m pretty sure I was close to getting a klap from dad after a while, so I’m still surprised by how he caved. Dad never caves, he has the resistance of 2 day old porridge left in the fridge.
“Fine, get in the car let’s go” he aid “We’re not wasting bladdy time there either” I also recall vague threats about bringing home another dog over his dead body.
I couldn’t believe my luck! I was finally going to venture past the gates of the plot and go shopping – still a favourite pastime.
I had been saving up my pocket money (yes, all those R2’s cleaning the horse shed had really paid off) and was eager to blow my loot on a tank, a stand and a few mortally challenged goldfish.
Shortly thereafter the tank was purchased, cleaned and set up in my room. I don’t think the fish lasted very long and were soon replaced with 2 tiny turtles given to me by our local GP up the road. You cant make this stuff up. Once the turtles lost their charm the hamster obsession took place and soon I was breeding the things like…well…rodents. One hamster in particular – her name was Mole – had several tiny babies the one morning. A few hours later I walked in to witness her eating the last of them. A few days later my dog Touser jumped into the tank and ate Mole.
The circle of life. Sometimes it just ‘aint pretty.