Published: Tue, August 08, 2017
World | By Tasha Manning

From my roof


I am going to tell you the story of how a humble creature went from being literally in the jaws of a snake to being the animal that lives best in Spain.

My little sister is a manual dog. In recent years his tendency to dogflautism has been exacerbated: he wears dreadlocks, he wears "those" pants and says things of such a greatness that seems to be laughing at itself. Well, a couple of years ago she was finishing her degree in Biology, branch of Zoology (just like Ana Obregón). To practice, he started to work in a place where they collect wild animals that have been abandoned by their owners.

As in Madrid there are lots of assholes, the site is always full of crocodiles, iguanas, snakes and bugs as well. There they take care of them, give them shelter and ... feed them. The budget is limited and the diet of the snake, like that of its companions, consisted basically of compound feed. But once a week, to give him a joy, a baby bunny was let loose so that he would shake it. That was one of my sister's tasks, feeding the snake.

The third beast that sacrificed, far from getting used to, took pity on the next victim, a bold rabbit who was very sorry. He named her and convinced her bosses to let her pardon him. In the end the bosses gave in. Of course, on the condition that he take it home, that nobody wants bugs with teeth.

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And so he did. My sister is the only one who still lives (well, sometimes) with my parents, so she had to convince them. When we were little, my parents were always quite inflexible about not having animals. Neither puppies, nor kittens, nor anything. We only had one very nice turtle. But now that they are old men it seems that it is easier to soften them, and when they heard that if they did not admit the rabbit was going to be devoured, they opened the house doors wide.

So it is, that my parents decided to give him a room for himself. And in summer it has its own little house on the patio. He is the owner and lord. And look, Mr. Mus does not eat anything. He likes carrots (peeled), apple and canons, but if he eats lettuce or green beans he dies. You can not throw away food leftovers, Mus is not a trash can. Just cool fresh vegetables.

And you ask, why do I tell you all this? Because my sister, the dogflauta, is now in the Andes playing the flute with four Indians and does not plan to return to Spain until she has crossed the southern hemisphere from end to end. And my parents are going on vacation today. And my other sister is also out, so today Mus comes to live with me in spite of the protests and entreaties of D. and myself. But it has not helped to say that we do not want our clothes to eat or scratch our platform.

So you see me, dedicated in body and soul to my special guest, Mus, the animal that lives best Of Spain and part of the foreigner. Does anyone have a recipe for garlic or anything?

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