What really goes on in the mind of our Pets?

Goldie

The bowl is small. Too small. I swim in this wet jail cell, all day, every day. I'm. Not very interesting. Actually I'm incredibly antisocial. I blame the bowl for that. There's a whole life happening outside my bowl that I'm not apart of.

I remember a time before I was in this bowl. I was in a water filled plastic bag in a theme park. A small child won a ball throwing game and I was handed over to him then later put in this tiny bowl.

The days go past. Quite slowly.

I get fed once a day and my water changed once a week.

What a fun life I live.

I usually spend my days overthinking. And just now I thought 'what if I faked my death?' What an excellent plan.

I lay on my back in the bowl. "Thommy! The fish is dead. Come and dispose of it!"

The young boy walked up to the bowl. "Cool" he said starring right at me. He took the bowl and tipped the contents into the toilet before flushing it.

It was a quick trip. I found myself somewhere, I don't know where. But all I knew is that I was free from the bowl.