Why blacks are not good pet owners (yeah I said it)

I can honestly tell you I do have a fondness for animal but not a love.I would put the life

of virtually any human over any animal on any given day. With that being said I really

hate to see any animal abused. I think black people treat animals the way blacks

have been treated in America. A pet you can look at and admire until you get tired of it

then you kicked it out of your house far away in its own little run down area sometimes

even chained and boxed in it’s own house until you need something from it or wish to play

with it again. A prime example is the dog my grandfather had when we stayed with him.

He keep the dog on a virtual starvation diet keeping the animal in a constant emaciated

state. The dog was fairly young but it was as skinny and wizened as my grandfather himself.

Everyone would inquiry about the animal wanting to know if it was ill or dying.

My mother ok’d me having a puppy when we moved to 16th and Kominsky and I found a lab

mix within days of her saying yes. I was happy as a pig in shit for having a dog after having to

get rid of the cat when we got evicted. I got him Saturday afternoon and by Monday afternoon

that puppy was as stiff as drywall. When we first moved in we had a small rat problem so my

mother laid down some posion for the bastards. The one two punch of the poison and rat traps

worked very well and within two weeks no rats or their droppings. Unfortunately my mother

and I neglected to remove any remaining poison from the apartment. That puppy never had a

chance.

Eventually we got a cat who we never named (why name something who is never going to

come to you) That cat had kittens and we kept one of those after the rest ran away. Those

animals were infested with fleas. You could see the bugs roam on the skin of the cats like it was

cars moving thru traffic. Although we feed the cat she would get her own food sometimes. She

would have been better of sticking with the cat food. I came home and little brother was

standing on the couch. He told me the cat was acting very funny and foaming at the mouth. The

rat poison at first came to mind I thought to myself at first but that had been well over a year

ago and I had checked the entire house for more. I saw the cat and it was acting pretty normal

to me. About forty minutes later however the cat was meowing at the top of her lungs and

litterally flipping off of the damn walls. Little brother and I ran to my mother’s room and

slammed the door behind us. We had never seen any animal act like that and I was scared as

hell. In the living room and kitchen you could hear the cat meow and throw itself against

whatever was in its’ way. A few hours later there was knock at the door. I’m not sure who got

but there must have been a lull in the cat craziness because one of us answered it. Big brother

had picked the wrong night to come and crash. About a minute after he walked in the cat

climbed two thirds of the way up the wall. what was especially weird about that is the cat didn’t

seem to use its’ paws. The fucking thing was taken over by an evil spirit and climbed up the

wall like a demon, that’s what it looked like anyway. Again we all headed for the safety of my

mother’s room. There we stayed like three little bitches for the rest of the night. We all came

out about five thirty to find the cat dead in the kitchen. Near the cat was a vomited half

digested rat. We had known that the very nasty restaurant behind us had been laying down

poison to kill rats so the health inspector would let them open so they could continue you to kill

with rib tips and lard. The very unlucky cat must have scavenged the rat and paid the price.

Niggas not warning people about them laying poison got a cat killed and screwed up perfectly

good night.

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