Life in the bowl is certainly better than in the bag. I used to float there alone, watching as those hooked ducks wandered by, plucked from the water one by one, vanishing, followed swiftly by each of my friends.
Now I have a bridge and a clam.
Life is good.
David studies creative writing and divides his time between walking his dogs and cooking pizza for his wonderful wife.
Pet World was eerily quiet that morning.
The opened hamster cage doors hung limp and broken, the aquarium fished of all within, bird seed scattered and spotted feathers dotted upon the floor. All quiet, but for the contented purr of Pancho the puma, recent, felonious escapee of the nearby zoo.
Alex Sinclair was born in the winter of 1973 in Nottingham, England, and, on the cusp of his 40th birthday, is still trapped there. He longs for a looser, more liberal society where his own shaky morality and absurd beliefs could find succor and praise. Until that day, he bides his time, waiting to pounce like a graying and jaded ocelot. To amuse him and occupy all available time for the next 40 years of his life, he has just become father to twins, who, though but 3 months old, are acutely aware that daddy may not be quite right in the head. This small matter is overlooked as he can expertly and lovingly feed, burp, and nappy change each baby in just 15 minutes, whilst also attend to cooking duties downstairs with good humour. He lives with his long-suffering partner Shona, and cats David and Mogwai.