4.) If your pet could talk, what would you want to know?
We don’t actually have any living pets at the moment. We had a pet Beta fish named Patfish who died after a mess up in food menus. I think he ordered some of those flakes but ended up with a honey nut Cheerio and a dried olive. Betas aren’t really that companionable, preferring the singular lifestyle of dark murky water. I was still surprised he didn’t adjust his pallet for this one mess-up. In the end, all we had was a pale looking fish and luckily no relatives to sue us for a mal-something or other.
As far as info that I could coerce from this pet, now of another realm, nothing comes to mind. He lived in the kitchen, near the sink in his bowl of tepid water. I’m sure the highlight of his days was watching what we managed to stuff down our garbage disposal. His position had a view of the table, stove, refrigerator, and the hallway leading to the restroom. We didn’t have any florescent lighting so the question of how many blinks it makes during a day is out. We didn’t have a tv in the kitchen so I couldn’t ask what we missed on Days of Our Lives (I don’t watch soaps but still, maybe someone got the results of a blood test or maybe Luke found out that Lillian, his lover, was really his long lost twin sister, you never know).
Ah, here it is. Since Patfish lived next to the sink, I would have liked him/her (didn’t know it’s sex and with a name like “Pat” we’re pretty safe either way) to tell us, voluntarily, that someone had put a Hot Wheel car in the the garbage disposal. Would have been helpful. Fortunately, it was recovered and the wheels were still in place. I just hate putting my hand down that thing. Is there such a thing as a fear of garbage disposals in the book of phobias? Garbosalaphobia?