What’s this about pets, then?
We now have seven pets.
Seven? Are you nuts?
Well, there were eight, but one died yesterday.
Who killed it?
No-one killed it. It just died.
Really? I wouldn’t put it past you…
I did dispose of the body in the garden, but that’s the only sinister thing about it.
Cremation or burial?
I suppose you could call it a burial, although it didn’t require much digging.
Did the kids cry?
No, they didn’t get upset. In fact, they were pretty nonchalant about the whole thing.
Y’know, like another day, another dead pet.
Sounds like you’re raising some callous kids there, mate.
Well, I hope they’ll care more when I die, and won’t just toss me in the garden like a piece of trash.
Don’t bank on it. They’ll probably put you on the BBQ and call it a cremation.
Shut up. I’m here to talk about pets, not funerals.
You started it.
Fair enough, but let’s get back on topic. As I was saying, we have seven pets.
Rabbits? Horses? Ferrets? Dogs?
Fish? Well, no wonder the kids didn’t cry. Fish aren’t real pets.
Fish are real pets! OK, we haven’t named them and can’t play with them, but the kids do have to feed them and help look after the tank.
Why not get a guinea pig?
Because it would drown.
I didn’t mean you’d put it in the fish tank…
I know what you meant. Goodbye.
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