Rubber Ducky

do you feel ducky, punk?

Today, Mae and I walked into Safe n' Sound in 1 Utama and we spotted this cute little fella sitting there on the shelf just waiting to go home with us. Baby would enjoy this, I'm sure. And if he doesn't, mommy and daddy surely will. We're easily amused these days. :)

Quacky here reminds me of my childhood. It's a long story, but a good one so bear with me.

We were poor folks. In fact, we were so poor that we couldn't afford to keep pets. It also didn't help that my dragon-lady of a grandma didn't like animals. There was just no talking to her. She hated cats. She hated dogs. In fact she hated just about any animal you couldn't eat. And so we didn't have pets around the house.

For entertainment, I used to follow mom to the wet market. (Did I mention we were poor?) Anyway, in one of our trips to the market, I caught sight of the poultry seller. We had always bought something from him. A chicken. Some eggs. But that day was different. He had this huge box of little ducklings for sale. And in that box, I found my first love.

Mom saw her little boy staring longingly into that box and she knew immediately.

"You want one, huh?" and I nodded sheepishly. "A duck's not really a pet, son," mom warned me against having any affections towards poultry. But it was too late, I had fallen. And deep. I promised mom that I just wanted to keep him for awhile, until it was time.

We went home with a little duckling that day, and I was the happiest little boy on the planet.

Ducky (I wasn't all that imaginative as a kid, ok) and I had some of the best times in our lives. I chased him round the yard. I played ball with him. Heh! And on weekends, mom would let me fill up a hug basin with water and we'd put Ducky in. And Ducky loved that. He took to it like... erm... duck to water! :) But all this while, mom tried to me in perspective with regards to Ducky's future.

And then, some months down the road the inevitable happened.

Ducky had grown into a tall and handsome duck. And as he did, I saw the shadow of death looming over his horizon. I tried to talk mom out of it, but I knew I had this coming. And mom's words kept playing back in my 7-year old mind, "A duck's not really a pet, son." I was heart-broken, but I accepted it.

Apparently, Ducky was good till the very end. But I wouldn't have any of it - literally. I sulked for days and I swore then that I would never eat duck for as long as I lived. And till this day, I still don't.

Alright, alright, so I do. But grudgingly! Hahhahhah!! Truth is, I don't really like duck. It's the damn smell. But if it's crispy and crunchy, I'll do it. If not for my love of food, then for the memory of Ducky. Hehhehheh!!!

Anyway, after a week of sulking, mom took pity on her broken-hearted little boy and bought him a couple of tortoises. We were still poor but they were cheap. And so, I was a happy little boy all over again. That is, until my tortoises met with an untimely and tragic demise. But that's another post altogether. :)