Nothing But Merchandise

[Pet Store Animals]

It was hell. Just hell decorated to look pretty.

The first thing one noticed was the crowd of people poking the glass of the front cages, flanking either side of the door like incentives to get people. They housed the store's precious felines, and maybe some rabbits if the cats weren't "in stock". Delighted by the little kittens or the fuzzy bunnies, girls were always poking at the glass, giggling and awwing over them, watching as the cats looked up with big round eyes and sent a bored paw after their fingers. The rabbits, though not half as interesting, were cute enough to get glances. Then, if someone was daring enough, they could enter.

Beyond the two main attractions, there was a buffer zone of innocence -- Leashes, collars, mugs, and other, nonliving items for people to buy. Nothing was crowded in cages in this part, and it was quiet here -- All the action came further down the narrow store, where everything that people really came to pet stores for was. There, flanking either side of the crowded aisle, were the animals.

On the right were rows upon rows of wire cages, and inside them were the puppies, sometimes up three in a cage if there weren't enough cages. Water in giant jugs hung from the cages, at the exact same height, no matter the breed -- If the dog couldn't reach it, oh well; wasn't the workers' problem. There were no dishes for food; no one wanted to know what these animals were fed. The cages had towels in them, but beyond that there was only wire, and a companion. People oggled at the cute little puppies who were either sleeping away their boredom, or "playing" to pass away the dull, miserable days.

On the other side were the birds, rodents, reptiles -- Whatever could fit in a relatively small, cheap glass cages. The lining they got to save them from the cold glass was the same -- Wood shavings. If one of them was allergic to it, oh well; not the workers' problem. There were bowls of food and water for these animals, because everyone expected them to be fed dull, tasteless, and not very nutricious pellets. The cages were packed to the gills, not separated by gender -- As long as an animal could fit in there, they were in. On days when they were freshly "stocked", there wasn't a lot of room to roame.

In the center of the aisle was a big glass "bin" with a wire mesh top. Inside there could be a variety of larger rodents that couldn't be squished into a cage. Rabbits, ferrents, maybe chinchillas if there wasn't a bird cage to spare... Whatever the latest "order" was was placed in there, with water, food, wood shavings, and nothing more. Depending on how things went, they may get "promoted" to the glass in the front of the store, so more animals could be advertised and sold.

But it was nothing compared to the end of the store. There, after one passed through another buffer zone of food, cages, and litter, were the fish. Medium-sized tanks were stacked along the back wall, some of them full of nice blue water from working filters, some of them most certainly not. The assortments were little, the food no where in sight, and the fish? Like the rodents, except worse -- Here species were mixed and maxed, regardless of nature or needs, just so long as they didn't eat each other. And in a little corner in the shade were the bettas -- One unfortunate fish per a tiny bowl filled with disgusting water. If they died, it wasn't the workers' problem; they were just dumped unceremoniously, and a new bowl and betta brought out.

The conditions of the place were awful; the cages were cleaned when the workers felt like it (which wasn't very often), the food probably long past any experation date, the water stale, and the animals provided with no entertainment or interaction whatsoever. The potential owners, who packed the store at all open hours, were oblivious to it. They just saw what they wanted to see. Cute puppies and kittens, pretty birds, fish... They were in conditions that were suitable. After all, they were only temporary, and the animals didn't look like they were under stress. And besides, they were going to buy one of them, and then it'd be all better. Right?

They had no idea.

Anarchy looked wildly up at the humans surrounding the smelly "bin" that was her home. They were saying something with great excitement, pointing down at her and her sibling, who was watching them with wide eyes and obvious horror. She didn't care what it was; what was important was that they were staying for more than three seconds. And thus, they had Anarchy's rapt attention, as a thousand plans went through the rabbit's mind. Should she jump up at them? Scratch at her ear insanely? Run around in circles? She had no idea why she wanted to do something, but it just somehow seemed important. Now if only her crazy mind could slow down enough to think of something.

Desdi wasn't having his sister's problem. His plan was obvious: run away if the humans took off the top and went after him. The last child had been a nightmare; squeezed him too hard, tugged at his ears, and screamed like a madman. He hadn't finally escaped until the child plopped him gracelessly down and surged away toward the dogs. Desdi had hardly recovered from the experience, and planned to run and try to burrow in the shavings the minute he was seen.

Ipsy was being normal, for himself anyway. The rabbit was pawing maniacally at the glass, his paws sliping and sliding against the smooth, unforgiving surface as he stared desperately at the humans. One of them found it quite cute, and she poked at the glass, whispering in a sweet voice to him. He pawed more crazily at the glass, and the human laughed. Then she saw something more interesting and, tugging on her friend's arm, left. Ipsy was sad, Desdi was relieved, and Anarchy was too busy spinning in circles to notice.

Not too far away, Woedom was bored and lonely. She was a social species, but regardless had the "large" glass cage all to herself. Hopping on the old wooden post that made for a perch, she let out a few calls, hoping to attract something, anything, to her prison. However, there were no birds to answer her call, and the humans were far too busy admiring a puppy that had been brought out of its cage to pay attention to her. Woedom could only watch with extreme loneliness, and even a bit of jealousy, as the puppy was showered with all the attention that she wanted.

Mira was pissed off. Yet another group of giggling teenagers had come to the cat's glass corner cage, and were poking the glass repeatedly. She hated social interaction enough; having a constant poke poke poke reverberate through the cage gave her a headache. Fur ploofed up and ears back, she let out an angry hiss, but most of the girls only gasped, jabbering about the "mean" kitten, then continued poking the glass. Not wanting to give them another hint, Mira turned her back on them and laid down in the corner with an angry sigh; stupid humans.

Spira, on the other hand, was fascinated by these humans, now that she was over her initial shyness. Tail lashing yet ears perked, she sat down as she watched the finger poke the glass. Then, she dared lift her paw and swipe at the finger, only to have her paw and claws hit glass. She retracted the appendage immediately at the grating noise, which was followed by a "Shut up!" from a grumpy Mira. She didn't really care about that, though -- Mira was always grumpy. At least these humans interacted with her and kept her from losing her mind.

In the back of the pet store, Zala was actually moving around to the front of the tank, for once. No humans were hording around the cage, hoping to buy a "starter" pet for their child. Nope; it was Look at the Cute Puppies Hour, as it normally was near the end of the day when parents came home from work and brought their children to the pet store as promised. And most children were only interested in fluffy, playful puppies, especially the one destined to be out of the cages and smothered by affection. Safe from being noticed, Zala swam around, watching the group suspiciously. If they came back, back to the back of the cage he went, to pretend he didn't exist.

And Nemo? He was quite certain he was going to die. Already he couldn't move properly; the bowl was too small, the water putrid and decidely unhealthy, and his fins beginning to rot away. He was positively miserable, and unlike most of the animals, did not notice the humans. All he noticed was the murky misery he lived in, and the pain that was an everyday occurance. With how much life sucked, he found himself hoping he died, so he could finally get away from this small bowl of hell.

[Faden Evil Creksaa and Erden]

Hooray for pet-the-puppy hour. Even among the canines, there was at least one who hated this time of day.
No one wanted to play with the shy older puppy, though the children did stick a finger through the bars of his cage on occasion to point out his funny markings to a half-listening parent. At least no one was here actually looking to buy anything. Then he'd be hauled from his cage, subjected to whining and tugging abuse, and then stuffed back in when they found his subdued nature unattractive. Faden just couldn't help it. The other puppies were just cuter and bolder and more right than he was. Not to mention, the idea of bounding around and licking grubby human faces was just downright unappealing. As awful as it was to live here, he was sure that living with that kind of stressful attention must be worse. And so the border collie moped in the back of the cage that he was swiftly outgrowing and neurotically licked at the raw patches of his forelegs that always seemed to itch during these loud times.

In one of the center tub cages held the tangle of ferrets-- charming and strange and energetic. There were always kids, and quite a few young adults, who found these creatures new and interesting and would pause to spend some attention on them. The daring ones would even ask to reach in and hold one. These were the times that a very certain ferret lived for...the one who had been dubbed 'Evil' by a few of the more humorous workers. The ferret was significantly larger than his cagemates, the remnant of a litter that was sold some months ago, and was practically a 'special needs' animal. His price was half of what the other ferrets were. Whenever that brave arm would reach in toward the peaceful bundle of curious creatures, one would catch that arm by surprise by leaping up and latching on with tooth and claw. He honestly didn't mean any harm...it was just the only way he knew how to communicate, and he did it with everything. I'm hungry, I want to be put down, I want to be picked up, I'm content...they all came out in the form of a bite. Wincing and muttering, the customer would pry off the energetic animal, only to have an embarrassed worker smile from behind the counter. "Yeah...he just has too much personality." Too bad it wasn't the kind of personality people were willing to buy.

Far from the bustle of the mammal's section of the shop, there was still drama of sorts among the invertebrates. Creksaa, a purple-clawed hermit crab, was fighting for her very life. Crabs of similar age but larger size were, once again, trying to pry her from her prized shell. She loved that shell more than life itself, and was willing to give it all up to keep it from the claws of others. The assailant was an Ecuadorian crab today, who chirped angrily as he battled the female, who needed to shove herself into the corner to defend herself. That shell she was defending was ridiculously oversized, and she'd be in trouble of the male managed to get her away from the protective trench she'd dug for herself in the corner. Though she was being assaulted, there was still a little bit of satisfaction when she picked up the scent of the other crab's low salt content. He must have been a new addition, because the Ecuadorian crabs were never feisty for long. In a cage without salt water--thanks to ignorant keepers--that species began to wither away quickly. So, she somehow took pleasure in the knowledge that even if she was pulled from her shell and killed, sooner or later that crab would wish he was dead as well. It helped her carry on, heh.

And finally there was Erden the box turtle, who was totally oblivious to all things outside his little realm of attention. While many of the reptiles were kept together, some of the frogs and turtles were kept were kept in the same area as the fish. It made taking care of all things aquatic much more convenient. He, the infinitely lucky box turtle that he was, was right next to one of the tanks of fish. It was a blessing that he thanked the heavens for every day, because of how much their company kept him going. He hated his dull and stony kind. Fish were so much more...graceful. And beautiful. And talkative. Erden was currently jammed in the corner that he rarely left, gazing lovingly into the tank next to his. He'd found long ago that if he leaned on the glass and shouted, the vibrations would carry his voice through the water enough for his finned friends to hear him. Granted, it was rather difficult to hear them back...but he didn't care. There was a human or two lingering outside his cage, commenting on how he looked so hungry, peering at the fish like that. If he could have understood them, his stomach would have turned. He still remembered the horrific day when one of the workers decided to give the turtles a treat of minnows. It was enough to make his blood run cold. His thoughts were far from this however as he attempted to strike up a conversation with his neighbors once more.
"Hello everyone!! How are you today!!"
Beside him, a cage mate groaned irritably and pulled her ears inside her shell.