"Animal Killer Strikes Again"

I was forced to reveal more about myself than I had anticipated on the first day of work with the CUWP. One of the CUWP directors was in charge of facilitating a get-to-know-you activity that required all 20 teachers in the room to write a headline that revealed something about their life on a strip of paper and post it on the wall for all to admire. The headline had to have a story behind it. For example: "Midlife crisis inspires nose piercing" and "Teacher breaks tailbone at assembly--again!" or "Michael Jackson lookalike stalked in subway." I couldn't decide what to share: "Girl Meets Boy Pride and Prejudice Style," or "Girl Smuggles Stray Neighborhood Cat into Parents' House," or maybe "Harmless Fourth of July Pyromania Detected by Cops..."

But I settled on "Animal Killer Strikes Again." Once all the headlines were posted on the wall, each teacher got to pick someone else's headline. Each teacher then found the person who had swiped his/her original headline and told the story behind the headline to supply the partner with enough details so that the other could write a short news article-type piece to introduce the owner of the headline.

I eventually found the teacher who had picked my headline, told the story, and he wrote the following article. Some of you know the sad events behind the news story below:

Middle school teacher, Serita Rich, was recently indirectly responsible for the death of several beta fish while travelling with her husband. Leaving the fish in the care of an acquaintance, she returned home to find the fish belly up in their bowl. According to the neighbor’s statements, the fish had been deceased for several days but she was unsure of what to do with their remains. The condition of the fish confirmed the neighbor’s claim. Representatives from PETA were unavailable for comment.

Further investigation revealed that Serita had a history of killing pets. While a middle school student, she was given a chicken. Being unfamiliar with the popular Saturday Night Live skit which teaches that “chickens make lousy house pets” she chose to sleep with her bird. During the second night of the sleeping arrangement she rolled over on the chicken. She awoke the next morning to find it dead. No information was available on what the family ate for dinner that night.

On a brighter note, not all of Serita’s pets have died, and she has had several plants thrive under her care.

The chicken incident happened in about 6th or 7th grade. The beta fish died in 2006, if I recall correctly.

And yet, these were not the only animals that met their demise under my watchful guidance! I had a puppy once. For about an hour. After the puppy funeral (first grade), I didn't get any more pets until several years later when my dad thought I could handle animals that could thrive in confinement on a bland diet. They were all the same color, sand brown, and blended in with the wood shavings in their cage. We didn't see much of them because they spent half their lives burrowed underneath little mounds of shavings, or dozing in the toe-ends of old cut up socks that we discarded. And they always smelled like pee.

Gerbils. What could possibly be more thrilling?

We kept these unfortunate creatures for a few years. When it was time for a three-month summer vacation to New Hampshire, we encountered a dilemma. What to do with the gerbils? The solution was simple. Set them free in the backyard!! It all made total sense! We had a small mountain of dirt and gravel that my brother built by hauling wheelbarrow loads of dirt from one spot in the yard to the other. It would be gerbil Mecca--fresh weeds and grass to gorge on, free range over the hill, endless possibilities for tunneling and burrowing, early morning dew to quench thirst... "But won't the cats get them?" I asked my dad, suddenly momentarily concerned about the gerbils for once. (Our back yard was a perpetual breeding ground for feral cats). Oh well. Dad didn't think twice about it, why should I? Although I had my doubts. But there was nothing else to be done and we weren't about to cancel vacation on account of some lousy pea-brained rodents. We carried their cage out to the dirt mountain, emptied it, and watched them scurry away.

Nobody never saw them again. At least this time, it wasn't my fault they died. Dad made me do it.