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Cheer up, it’s only Monday

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Every time I see this picture, I go “Awwwwww” because I’m reminded of how Milo was when he first came into our lives. He looked exactly like this puppy in the picture with his really long slender body, big floppy ears and wagging tail. He was long, dark and deceptively handsome if you see him IRL. He’s not good-looking in a conventional way, but he has a certain innate charm that I think all puppies have. Must be those puppy eyes.

Every time Milo the puppy pounced on anyone of us joyfully, we’d get a dose of happiness, no matter what mood we were in. If there is one thing I wish I had done more of, it’d be to carry him in my arms more often and let him sleep with my parents or me from the beginning, instead of being left alone in a cage in a darkened living room. Should have never listened to those so-called pet-shop owners or dog trainers!

I also wish I had a better camera phone then. Then we’d have many clearer pictures of him, instead of the dark fuzzy ones that no one can decipher. Haha!

So, happy Monday to y’all. Remember, seeing pictures of adorable cats and dogs has been scientifically proven to brighten up your day and make you more productive. Go on, start browsing now.

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That doggie in the window

So really, I’ve been hearing that song since oh I don’t know when I was young and still, no one has ever told me how much was that doggie in the window. The song just goes on and on. Bit annoying really.

But if you happen to know the price tag of the dog, please let me know. After all, that poor dog has been in that window display for ages. Surely, its value has depreciated over time, no? Maybe I can finally get a pet dog for cheap.

Anyway, sleep is becoming a distant memory for me these days, what with the intense amount of words I have to churn out within a short period of time. Oh, the need for coherent and sensible writing when you are hardly awake enough to type is excruciating. Yes, I know it’s partly my fault because I have been so lazy but criticising me now won’t do anyone any good, innit.

I will of course attempt to finally complete the last few hundred words of the feature now, instead of getting distracted by the delights the wondrous Internet has to offer. Talk later.

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Why you should never keep certain pets

I'm gonna be pretty someday

I'm gonna be pretty someday

There is just a certain type of pet you should never keep when you are a child or currently raising children. My first pet was a caterpillar. As you can imagine, that might have just screwed me up a little when it comes to the idea of raising pets 22 years on.

My dad and I were playing in the living room one day when we spied a grubby little wormlike creature on the ground. Seen through my wide innocent eyes, this crawlie thingy was the best thing one could ever find in an afternoon playtime. Dad asked if I fancy watching the caterpillar turn to a butterfly. If you had the same book (pictured above) I had in your childhood, you would think “My very own Hungry Caterpillar”! Oh, the cupcakes you can watch it eat, leaving holes of rampage in its path of feasting.

Of course, I was made to promise to keep it in somewhat of a good shape by not forgetting to feed or look at it occasionally. I forgot if I had given it a name though, but if the memory does come back to me, I shall remember it fondly.

Week One: It laid on the huge cabbage leave inside a cosy* plastic Tupperware. Did not appear to have moved at all. Eat, sleep, eat. Possibly one of the most self indulgent pets ever.

Week Two: Bits of the various leaves were chewed on. Caterpillar remained still whenever my big face approached its home. Got fatter. Shed some weird skin too.

Week Three: Watching it move was like watching paint dry. You never know if it’s even doing it. But obviously, it was doing its exercise in the middle of night when I was asleep. Always at a different spot on the leave the next day. Deprived me of having fun watching it, that fat hairy bastard.

Week Four: From a fat fugly caterpillar, it became a cocoon. I could sit in front of it all day long. I wonder if it ever felt conscious of itself, like getting chills down your back whenever you sense someone looking at you intensely from the back.

The Big Day: As I impatiently ran to see if it had emerged from its cocoon, I saw hints of dark wings behind the leave. Grinning widely, I nudged the leave aside and there it was, in all its winged glory, a dusty looking moth.

Twenty two years on, I still ask myself sometimes infrequently whenever I wake up in the middle of the night to wee. “Why wasn’t it a butterfly?”