I Want A Farm

Since me and my bro were little kids, my friends have called my house a farm. Papa's a big fan of animals which I think is cute. An old humble man who isnt the emotional type, but absolutely loves his animals. He builds them epic cubby houses, invents drinking and food systems, strategically designs their homes so they arent too hot during the day or too cold during the night, makes sure that in 40 degree weather they get enough shelter and water and in freezing weather the houses are insulated. The animals love him back to the point where they follow him around when he is gardening, they actually run after him. I'll see my dad walking from one side of the garden to the other, and then I see a trail of chickens running after him. Hehe. The animals recognise the sound of his car, voice and the click of the unlocking door.

We've had ducks, chickens, quails, rabbits, rats, cats and all types of fish as pets. I remember the ducks, their favourite food was bamboo which is good because we had so much of it. They would stretch their long necks up to reach the leaves. All the leaves at the bottom of the tree would be gone. Whenever a plane flew past they cocked their heads sidewards to look up because their eyes are on the side of their heads. Hehe.

The pet I loved the most was Cotton Ball, my rat. White, red eyes, massive thick tail, pink ears so soft that you couldn't feel them when you touched it. I accidentally burnt her whiskers off when I was showing her a match stick on fire. I felt pretty bad poor thing, whiskers are important to a rat since their vision isnt good. But they grew back so it was all good. Despite the apparent fact that rats are super good with balance, my rat was terrified of heights. I put her on a thick rope in the air and she was shitting herself. She shook the rope because she was so unbalanced. She tried to curl her tail around the rope but that wouldnt work. She grabbed on to me in desperation when I rescued her. I trained her to climb the stairs of our cubby house and also to climb up my leg. She would stop around my hips because thats where I would scoop her into my arms. If i didnt, she would get confused and begin to wonder how they fuck she was gonna get down. She was so scared of falling.

Probably the most connection papa has had with a pet is our cute rabbit Mixy. We raised her since she was a baby, this white little palm full of angel fluff, red eyes, grey tail with one floppy ear and one straight one because she was half lopped eared. She looked very much like Pokey, I've accidentally called Pokey, Mixy. Oops. Mixy was strong enough to roam our backyard freely, she owned the place, even the ginuea pigs. She used to chase the chickens around and give them hell. Her favourite food was banana. Papa would leave the peel on to perserve what she didnt eat but she'd eat the skin anyway. Nothing went to waste.

She'd run to the door when she heard the click of the unlocking door and wait paitently at the spot where papa would lay down the goodies. If Mixy didnt, papa would only have to wave the banana in the air close to the ground and Mixy would emerge from wherever she was hiding to nibble the fruit in his hands.

Mixy made sneaky hiddy holes in the backyard too. It would be a surprise to find them, she'd have escape holes dug out under the fence to the neighbours so we'd have to put a metal sheild to stop her from digging. Sometimes she'd dig burrow 1 metre long. It's amazing with all that digging how she always kept so white. Papa one time accidentally stepped on her burrow and collapsed the entrance. He felt bad. 'Sorry Mixy'.

Mixy grew so big that it was impossible to carry her comfortably. Also, with all that freedom she didnt like to be carried. It was a sad day when papa found her dead. It was in the worst way too. Another animal had cornered her and bit her throat. Blood. The animal had also ripped one of her ear off and dropped it centimetres from her body. That was how papa found her. Poor papa. He cried. Papa doesnt cry. He was heart broken, he missed Mixy because after work she would be the one to welcome him home. Papa made a timber crucifix and painted it white with the words 'R.I.P. Mixy' written on it. Ate and Anio buried her and they cried as they did it. Ate was saying 'Don't worry Mixy, you're in a better place now' and patted her dead body. What a waste of body. I refused to partake because I knew I'd cry too.

Fluffyyyyyyy!!

Awwwwww sleepy face :)

Papa bought two brown baby chickens!