The Eighth Legend

It’s official. Taylor is down with chicken pox.

Moving on [as I find it dreadfully painful to discuss the above topic], I would like to inform you that today I, Feni [pride of the country], am turning two years and a half. It sounds so ANCIENT, doesn’t it?? 2.5 is a pretty big number… especially when it is multiplied by 365. I feel as old as the toilet-paper clad mummy that most people claim to observe at the museum [I have never actually been to the museum because I am, in fact, forbidden to enter as I happen to be part of the animal planet].

Come to think of it, I haven’t visited a lot of [so called] public attractions just because I happen to have a glorious [if I may say so myself] mane of pale fur and the features of most fauna. Take the planetarium, for example. Last year on my birthday, the whole family [including me, of course] drove down to Nostalgia, an authentic restaurant that [fortunately] allows beings of all kinds, indifferent the number of legs they possess.

Anyway, after all the human members of the Skarr family had stuffed themselves silly with spicy curries and oodles of tantalizing veggies [and passing on the odd chicken chunk under the table, daddy decided to, instead of wasting the rest of the evening in front of the television set, visit the planetarium, something the little ones have always wanted to do.

Taylor and Trikaya had high-fived each other and zipped off to the car. The adults chatted a little longer before untying me from the leg of the table and then sauntered back to the scarlet vehicle. In half an hour, the sedan pulled up in front of a bricked building with smartly decked watchmen guarding the entrance.

Daddy helped everyone out. Everyone but me. When I realized that he was making no attempt to open up the door that held me prisoner, I began whimpering. ‘Oh, poor Feni, she’ll be left alone in the car. Any volunteers to stay back with her??’ Daddy asked. ‘We will,’ Taylor said immediately, and the hands of my two-legged sisters shot up. ‘I was just kidding, dear. Don’t worry, we won’t take more than a hour, that’s for sure.’ He said, glancing at his watch for a moment before bustling everyone to the reception.

Meanwhile, I stood there, speechless, outraged and shattered. How dare they! I kept telling myself, fuming. It was MY birthday, after all! It was like leaving out Prince Charles from the festivities at his own coronation!! Pretty soon, I tucked myself to sleep. I have to admit, the boot was pretty comfortable [as usual] and as it was lightly snowing outside, I didn’t exactly feel hot. It was marvelously pleasant, and I was soon wandering about the land of Nod.

Well, what I was trying to say is that although some of my pals can be tiresome, boisterous or even ferocious at times, there are quite a few of us who aren’t. If there’s a worn out apparel in a basket of laundry, would you fling out the whole hamper or just keep the spoilt article aside??

Unfortunately, as my diary is hardly ever going to come across the eyes of a seriously important member of the government anytime soon, there is hardly any hope that anything is going to be done about this pathetic situation that is taking over that world.

Why, there are some “elite” areas that refuse to take in children!!!! Granted, there are some trouble makers out there and it’s better to be safe than sorry and all but I, for one, just don’t see the point in excluding the whole generation just to avoid a handful of -for the want of a better word- brats.

Don’t worry yourself about these issues, though. Once I am the lawfully wedded wife of his handsomeness, [the one and only] George Clooney [such charisma has he!!], I will make sure that this matter is brought under the notice of the President!! Yes, you read right!!

I will walk up to the white house and tap the head of the US government on the back. ‘Mr. President,’ I will say, stressing at the mister, ‘I am aware of an important little something that has to be brought under your notice,’ and I will give him a piece of my mind. He will be so charmed by my exquisite charm and my loveliness that he will say, spellbound, ‘For you, my love, anything,’ and that will be that.

If you are wondering about when exactly this little drama is going to unfold, I am afraid that I will have to inform you that I am not sure myself. But don’t fret. What is to happen will happen. It will take place in due course. Until then, moi amie [is that French for my friend?? I can’t help but admit that.. well, languages were never my talent!!], until then.


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