I had gerbils

None of 'em went in my ass, but I had gerbils and I loved them.
All of 'em escaped the habitat to die and dry out in some corner of the house, but I had little pet turtles and I liked them.
Most of 'em left through the toilet, but we had some fish that never really moved me.
The cats and I seem to respect each other, except for this one fuckin' cat that bit me on the head at Todd Himple's.
Dogs are poop eatin', barky, licky freaks.
To all the dogs I've loved before...
Rontu was a Great Dane German Shepherd-kind of guy, a patron, a saint, a hero, a hambone. Emily is a Browndog. She's soft and brown with a basketball butt, and she shit on my bed, yet, I love her. Lucy is a beagle. She's a regal sort of beagle, a poop eatin' princess who shakes to the thunder and fence digs to Under. Maynard was a Peekapoo hunchin' dog. No pillow was safe, no still leg stayed dry. The cats were on edge, what a fucker. Camaro ate crayons and shit rainbows. Pickle died from car. Stain was a cutie, named so his master could say "Come Stain". Mishima boner-chased me off a party porch pull-out sofa. I forgive him, we started it. Mike was nice, and didn't deserve the dog-knapping. Diogee pissed on my shoe at first glance, my foot was in the shoe. There's a hunting dog that I see each week in a pen at the shop. Does it have a name? I haven't asked. The pen is about 10x20? with electric fence and an igloo for shelter. The dog runs clockwise, howling, plaintive, yelping, hear me?, see me?, touch me???????????
To keep a creature don't seem right.
Here ya go, gerbil, hang out in my cage. Remind me to feed you. Don't eat yer babies.
Hey, little turtle, bring your diseases on over to my place. We know nothing.
"Mom, the fish is dead."