Becca in a Nutshell

Yesterday morning, Becca and I stopped at Wal-Mart to grab some litter for our pet rabbit. I waited in the car, and after a half-hour of wondering where the hell she'd gotten off to, she finally walks out with a couple of bags. So, we have the whole conversation about how I'm pissed because I didn't know where she was, she said she'd be 5 minutes, blah blah. And then I notice she's got something round in a bag that she's holding delicately. I figure she must have bought another cheap plant for her garden.

"What's that?" I ask.

"Um," she says sheepishly, "a fish."

So, in addition to the rabbit we adopted, she bought one of those little betta fish. She hasn't named it yet; she's afraid if she does, it'll die. She's also afraid if she doesn't, it'll die. She just loves animals; one day, she'll just start bringing them home from Petco, I know it. Everytime they have a rabbit or a guinea pig or a chinchilla that needs to be adopted, I can see her doing calculations in her head, figuring out how much extra she'll need to spend on food and things. It's cute. Ever since they made us take our bird feeders down last summer, she's missed the birds.

My mom, who has a diminished capacity for loving animals (ad who would rather put a cat to sleep or give it away than have to take care of it--I know this from experience) always tries to talk me out of getting any more animals, as if she's going to have to deal with them in any way. Typical of me, it just makes me want to start breeding bloodhounds or English bull terriers out of my home. When she first heard the fish story, she said that Becks needed a bigger house and a couple of children.

God, I hope that isn't true.