It is rare that I feel sage-like. It did not take much crystal ball gazing however, to predict that the days of Zoudi of Sanyuan Qiao were numbered from the outset.
beijingkids readers may recall how I attempted to prevent our household from expanding, issuing an edict that adding a rabbit to our masses would be folly. However, seeing as I possess the authority of a Beijing traffic controller at rush hour, I was overruled, allowing Zoudi, complete with his indiscriminate incisors and prolific digestive system to set about turning our home into his personal warren wasteland.
As I had warned my clan, Zoudi found himself quickly banished to the balcony where he set about devouring two sunflower plants, an empty beer crate and a sofa. But, as I had again foretold, these auspicious times were not to last. Repeated attempts at reintroducing Zoudi into the general population failed, and as the Beijing winter began climbing its way onto our ninth floor balcony, my wife and I began pawing for an escape route that would allow our consciences to remain clear.
Friend after friend was crossed off the rabbit refugee list, and soon, my wife and I found ourselves becoming increasingly desperate as the cold was closing in. We decided that we would not have been able to live with ourselves had we settled on a particularly wholesome stew or a misguided bungee jump, but we had pretty much settled on taking Zoudi to our local vet for a happy, peaceful death.
Just as we were thinking about how to tell Ariana that Zoudi was not going to make it home from the vet’s, a friend called to say that she found a new home for the “furniture terminator.” Zoudi has since moved to Shunyi and I have since seen photos of her in an earthly rabbit heaven, bounding along a rabbit hutch, fraternizing with other furry friends while drinking cool Yanjings and reading Alice in Wonderland (OK, maybe I imagined the last bit).
When Ariana heard that Zoudi was going to a better place, she became inconsolable – despite the fact that during the first week of having Zoudi, she noted that this would be good training for having a “proper pet” when the rabbit died.
Now that Zoudi was gone, Ariana insisted that we must get her a cat. As it so happened, Xiaoqing and I recently considered abducting a short-haired charcoal cat from a coffeehouse just off Nanluogu Xiang. I fell in love with her after she knocked over my 40 kuai coffee in attempt to reach the cream. As soon as we heard that Ariana wanted a cat too, Xiaoqing put out a post for a male cat of the above mentioned British breed, between the age of 2 and 4 months with a good sense of humor and a fondness for rainy Tuesdays. Within a week, we received a response from Ganji.com.
That Sunday, we made a lengthy trip to a stop near the west end of subway Line 1 where we were told that a woman in a red car would be waiting for us with a package. Entering the vehicle, my heart began to race, fearing a case of feline entrapment, each passerby taken as a potential foe. Payment was completed smoothly, however, and we returned home, ready to unleash the latest player in the Jones-Wong pet play.
This article is excerpted from beijingkids March 2012 issue. View it in PDF form here or contact distribution@beijing-kids.com to find out where you can pick up your free copy.
