by KUBOA
***
When Milton was eight years old, he assumed animals lived for only three days. Never any sign of escape, dead carcass or funny smell was apparent on that third day. All that remained in the room was an empty hutch, fishbowl, birdcage or kennel. Realising love was fleeting, even at the tender of age of eight, Milton made sure each new animal Aunt Bea brought into his bedroom was adored unconditionally: the small canary had its feathers treated every morning and evening with Aunt Bea’s Oil of Olay to make them shine. The hamster had its fur washed with Fairy liquid to keep it clean and smelling lemony. The two goldfish, Salt and Vinegar, both had their scales polished with Brasso, and for the one small chocolate brown Labrador he named Biscuit, Milton fashioned small boots from an old bicycle tire, wrapped them around each paw with twine, and took him for long walks around the local neighbourhood. For each one of those seventy-two hours, Milton Ball gave his all to love and protect each animal before each disappeared. His final parting show of affection was to allow them to share his bed.
