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[xenosaga] pets
Feb. 11th, 2004 01:02 pmTo Margulis, it felt much as it must have for the unfortunate sap on Lost Jerusalem who thought a jaguar kitten would make a great pet.
Sure, it was adorable when it was young. It was even tractable, if you got it early enough; and after the first few months of training, you got it to stop tearing up the couch and pissing on the carpet. Sometimes you could even take it out and show it off, wowing your friends with your expensive tastes.
But somewhere along the line, you forgot it was going to grow up to be a jaguar. It didn't really hit home until the first time you opened the door and a hundred pounds of purring big cat knocked you to the floor. Or when it took to screaming in the night for females that weren't out there. Or when it started marking its territory, and your whole house stank of male jaguar.
Or when it mauled your guests, trying to play with its food.
Worse than that, though, is you couldn't put the damn thing down with a clean conscience. The real kicker was that it had imprinted on you, it saw you as its parent, and in its weird, backward way, it loved you. It was the best damned guarddog you ever had, even if it left half-chewed chunks of would-be robbers strewn all over your living room.
But the very worst part, in Margulis's estimation, was that the damn thing thought it was people.
muse
Sure, it was adorable when it was young. It was even tractable, if you got it early enough; and after the first few months of training, you got it to stop tearing up the couch and pissing on the carpet. Sometimes you could even take it out and show it off, wowing your friends with your expensive tastes.
But somewhere along the line, you forgot it was going to grow up to be a jaguar. It didn't really hit home until the first time you opened the door and a hundred pounds of purring big cat knocked you to the floor. Or when it took to screaming in the night for females that weren't out there. Or when it started marking its territory, and your whole house stank of male jaguar.
Or when it mauled your guests, trying to play with its food.
Worse than that, though, is you couldn't put the damn thing down with a clean conscience. The real kicker was that it had imprinted on you, it saw you as its parent, and in its weird, backward way, it loved you. It was the best damned guarddog you ever had, even if it left half-chewed chunks of would-be robbers strewn all over your living room.
But the very worst part, in Margulis's estimation, was that the damn thing thought it was people.
muse
