The Pet Shop

Young Brendan had just left school when it started to snow, as it usually would on his birthday. While most kids would be obsessed with presents, cakes and parties... he had something else on his mind. Not that he wasn't thrilled by the idea of getting materially richer; but all he really wanted was to become more enlightened about the order of things.

When he got home, he headed straight for his room for a change of clothes: the uniform he had to wear annoyed him and he couldn't stand the thought of keeping it on any longer. He studied his ant farm as he got dressed. Between two panes of glass, held by a wooden frame, the workers had dug a few passage ways; linking the different rooms together. There was a nursery for the babies; the queen's layer, where she laid all the eggs; and space for storage, which he noticed to be empty. He made a mental note to bring them food and left his room to join his mother in the kitchen. He asked her about the meaning of life. She laughed, gave him a kiss and told him to go wash his hands because supper was to be served soon.

She finished setting the table while he washed-up and his father came through the front door shortly after. "Happy birthday, young man!" said his father as he hugged his son, "You're nine years old today, isn't that exciting? Daddy wants you to know that he loves you very, very much!" and he kissed him.

His mother called them both to the dinner table, on which laid a beautiful BBQ chicken, along with fries and gravy. Brendan asked his father what the meaning of life was.
"Well..." he started, "take a look at this chicken. At first it was a cute little baby chick. When it grew-up, it started laying eggs to reproduce itself."
"Like supermarket eggs?"
"Yes, but those eggs ended up being sterilized so that we may eat them for breakfast."
Brendan ate his food with a puzzled look. He couldn't understand why his father mentioned the chicken.
"But Dad! Aren't chickens birds?"
"Yes."
"So what do they have to do with the meaning of life?"
"They make a good metaphor, Son."
"What's a me-ta-for?"

"A metaphor, Son... " Daddy looked into the void as if to read the answer, "... is to look at something in a different way by comparing it to something else. It helps us understand some things a little better." And as he put a leg on his son's plate, "Reproduction is the goal of life but we, being more complex than chickens, try to fit-in socially, too. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I do."

After the delicious meal, Daddy told Brendan that he was going to take him to a pet shop to buy the animal of his choice. The condition was made clear that neither parent would ever have to take care of it for him. All agreed and the car was started for the road.

Cages filled with all kinds of birds made-up the window display. Chimes went-off as they entered the pet shop and the chirping got much louder. The cashier was billing clients for food, toys and accessories; not paying attention to the others.
Brendan's eye immediately caught an encaged monkey, surrounded by a delirious audience. He pointed it out to his dad and they approached the animal to see what the buzz was about. The attention, presumably, came from the monkey's masturbating.

"Come with me, Son." said Daddy, pulling Brendan away.
"What was it doing with it's penis, Dad?
"It was masturbating."
"What's master-bating?"
"What the monkey was doing with his penis."
"Oh! Why did everybody think it was so funny?"
"Because they do it too."
"Like a me-ta-for?"
Daddy laughed, "Something like that."

Next they saw a big, colourful parrot. Brendan knew a lot about them. They talk back to people and come from far away south. He tried to make it speak but it wouldn't do so. Daddy said that one had to repeat the same thing over and over until it learned how to say it. And even then, that's all it would say until you taught it something else. No matter how beautiful the bird was, it would never fly. And Brendan wondered what people saw in a beautiful bird that repeats the same words over and over. It has no personality. It just spits meaningless words back to whomever trains it. Pirate captains own parrots. They like their crew to do everything they ask, "Repeat after me, maties... ahoy! I am the greatest sailor of them all!" and then, they drink rum.

"Brendan, look at these fish! Aren't they nice?"
Fish... what do they do?... swim... eat... defecate. They never seem to do more than that; not even sleep. There are no responsibilities attached to them other than feeding. They are very low-maintenance animals, aren't they? No fun at all.

Towards the back of the shop and on the way to the other side of the room was a dark room with seemingly empty aquariums. Brendan took a closer look and found lizards and spiders. Those things usually scare him but he knew that they could not hurt him. He could never take one of those things in his hands, though. Maybe that's the point in having one: to get over fear. So would the owners be scared people? Maybe they don't want other people to know that they are scared; so they impress them with weird pets. Daddy took his hand and led him away saying, "Come, Brendan. I don't want you getting nightmares tonight."

Brendan saw an aquarium full of bugs on their way out of the reptiles' room. His father said that the people who work there feed them to the lizards. That reminded him of his starving ant farm.

Along the way back towards the front of the store, by the other side, were dogs behind glass. They barked as if to say, "If you come any closer, I'll kill you!" but by really paying attention, it was clear that what they really meant was, "Please pick me. Give me a home." Man's best friend was up for sale. It was no longer a thing of trust and companionship but rather one of pity and fear of loneliness. A school mate of Brendan's once bragged that he can make his dog do six different tricks. They're pack members... team players.

"Why should it have a leader that makes it do such stupid things for junk food?" asked Brendan to his father, who didn't like the way he talked.
"Dogs make good pets, Brendan. If you love them, they love you back."
Brendan noticed that one of them had lost an eye. His heart filled with compassion for the poor thing. He would have asked for it but he was too afraid of what his friends would think when they saw it.

Next to the dogs' display were cats. Brendan was told by his teacher that people own dogs but cats own people. They don't do tricks but, when they want something, they bother us until we give in. They ignore us any other time because they are so independent. They eat, sleep and groom themselves all day.

There were kittens in a playground. Some were fighting while others looked for their mothers. Brendan thought that it was a stupid idea to separate them from their mothers at such an early stage in life. Who would love them? Who would teach them? He mentioned it to his father, who said, "Maybe that's why they're so independent!"

By then, they had covered the whole floor. Brendan went to look at the birds at the display window. Some chirped quickly; others at a slower pace but none could shut their beak for more than five seconds. Brendan loved birds. He would often throw the crusts off his sandwiches at them in the school yard. "Beautiful creatures," he thought, "... meant to fly freely in the wind, are locked-up and reduced to a constant, annoying chirping."

Brendan's father asked him, "So what do you want for a pet, Son?"
He scratched his head and responded, "I haven't made-up my mind yet, Dad. Can I have more time to think about it?"
"Of course."
"And can we stop by the park to pick some leaves for my ants?"
"Sure."

Together, they got in the car and, stopping-off at the park, went back home. Once there, Brendan headed for his room to feed his ants. Some of the ants had been stuffed into the storage space. He called out to his dad to come and see. "Oh my God!" squirmed his father, who then grabbed it to show his wife; telling his son to stay in the room. Brendan didn't understand. He tried to listen-in to his parents' words but only caught-on to 'cannibals'.