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It's Hard In My Apartment For A Pimp |
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February 10th, 2006 11:23am |
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You know, it's hard in my apartment for a pimp. We live in a regulated duplex. Our landlady is super nice, but she doesn't allow pets. It's understandable because pets can be nasty, especially if you just let them run wild. We understood her reasoning, but wanted a pet anyway. So the search began. Dogs are impossible to keep under wraps, cat hair gets everwhere, fish are boring, and cougars are too expensive. That's why Kristi and I went to the pet store and got a pimp.
I had heard they were low maintenance and easy to love. Perfect for our small apartment because they feed and groom themselves. They support themselves financially and are practically independent (with the exception of some potty training issues). From the start, we were instantly in love with our little pimp. His colorful language and oversized hat were adorable. We would sit in the living room for hours throwing yarn and squeeky toys at him. What jollies were had!
It only took a few weeks for things to go stale. Mistah Flyfolks (we named him after my great grandfather) was so messy. His colorful language and oversized hats began upsetting the neighbors. It wasn't long before he began coming and going as he pleased. He would be gone days at a time. We spoke with a veterinarian and he suggested we get him neutered. This was going to cost some money - money we didn't have at the time - so we built a little cage for him to stay in.
Sad doesn't begin describe Mistah Flyfolks in the cage. He would sit and sing old spirituals as he begged us to let him watch BET. He said we were "hatin da playa pimp - not the playa pimps game' and that we needed to "recognize". This was followed by a string of non-repeatable words and a tearful breakdown. It was clear our apartment was not the habitat for him. Though we had tried our best to make him feel at home, it was hard in our apartment for a pimp.
That night we took Mistah Flyfolks into the backyard and set him free, never to see him again. I often sit and think where he is and wonder if he's okay. Could he survive out there in the wild? Has he found another family? Does he miss us? Surely he does. Afterall, that's how he rolls.;
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