Pet Cemetery: The Next Generation

| Romantic | May 27, 2013

(Ever since my fiancé has known me, I have kept small pets like fish or hamsters. After work, my fiancé sees the pet tank empty and sitting on the counter.)

Fiancé: “What happened to Skittles?”

Me: “Skittles?”

Fiancé: “Your hamster.”

Me: “Oh! I thought I named this one Dexter. He’s dead.”

Fiancé: “You got him two months ago! How can he be dead already?!”

Me: “I don’t know! He was rolling across the floor in his little hamster ball this morning, but by lunchtime he was dead. I put him in a tissue box and buried him in the backyard next to the other ones.”

Fiancé: “You’re not allowed to have any more pets—ever.”

Me: “What about a dog?”

Fiancé: “No.”

Me: “A cute little kitty cat? Cats are pretty independent.”

Fiancé: “No! No more pets ever!”

Me: “What are you going to tell our daughter when she asks for a pet?”

Fiancé: “I’ll tell her that her mommy is the Grim Reaper for pets… assuming she survives you.”

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