Killing our darlings

We had just committed murder, for the first time in our young lives.

This was, at least, how it felt, looking down at our little water pets, gutted on the ground.
Maybe I should start by telling you exactly what a water pet is, and how it came to that we so brutally murdered them.

Earlier that summer, I had begged my mother on a daily basis to buy me a kitten. My mother, a neat freak since birth, had however never met these requests of mine, always insisting that little animals are best to be left in their natural environment.

My best friend, the happy owner of a particularly proud and lone star state-of-mind cat was also starving for a pet to call her own, as her cat only was available for cuddling at his own convenience (this was, if he wasn’t out on some adventure involving a lady-cat).
One hot but overcast day in a summer that seem to last forever, my best friend and I were, as we always did, manufacturing a list on what to do. This was a regular procedure, to determine in what order we wished to carry out our very important tasks, involving biking down to the store to get candy, or going to the lake to swim.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, came the bright idea to manufacture water pets. Now, as exciting as the name implies water pets to be, to a grown up these looked like mere plastic bags, filled with water and securely sealed with a scout-type knot. To us, they were strange, marine animals, and what’s more… they spoke to us!

We decided to name our water pets after our favorite writers (in other words, the authors of the books we were currently reading) as we fancied ourselves to be extremely sophisticated and real book-connoisseurs. We very much wanted to reflect this upon the names of our newly found friends. Thus, my water pet was named Diana, after Diana Wynne Jones, and my best friend’s water pet Silpha, after a writer named Silpha Snyder. For the purpose of the manufacturing of these said water pets, we had used those kinds of plastic bags that mothers use to store things in the freezer. They were transparent with little labels on and to our great joy we found that these labels were excellent to use for printing the pets’ names on. This way we would not confuse Diana and Silpha, for they both had extremely different personalities.

These water pets brought us much joy as we were biking around the neighborhood, water pets securely attached to the back of our bikes. Such pride, to become a mother of such a brilliant creation! And feel that, they almost feel like they are alive, when you hold them in your hands! Why, they ARE alive!

As the evening came, my best friend was called upon by her mother, for supper was on the table. With that shine in her eyes, that only a nine year old can have as she is carrying home a great treasure, she left in a hurry with her Silpha, still riding in the back of her bike.

The next day, our water pets had strangely undergone a metamorphosis. They were not nearly as talkative or as enchanting as the day before. As much as we tried, the thrill of love-at-first-sight was gone. All we could see now were two dull and pretty annoying plastic bags filled with tap water, with big blue letter printed on the labels.

By the time our big white kitchen clock had struck noon, we were royally fed up with our water pets. Nevertheless, it is a very hard ordeal to part with something that has once been the source of joy and laughter (as we grew up we encountered the same type of feeling, translated into a very grown up expression called “breaking up”). So, there we were, contemplating what to do with our now so tedious water pets when one of us (I forget who) suddenly came up with the idea that the water pets were to be dropped from the little roof of our porch.

Said and done, we proceeded, with grave-like expressions on our faces, to head out to our porch. I do wonder what my mother thought, being passed by our small two-person funeral procession, consisting of two very serious nine-year old girls, and two very death-sentenced water pets.
Out on the porch, we agreed that we were both to carry out the death sentence. Climbing up to where the sentence was to be carried out, I could feel my heart racing and I am sure my best friend was thinking the same, for we were not talking. Without a word, we looked at each other, and, with a little quick nod… we let go.

Back to the scene of the crime. As the remains of our formerly beloved water pets were slowly being absorbed by the ground, we climbed down and rescued the ruptured plastic bags, now the only thing remaining of Silpha and Diana. Touched by the serenity of the moment, we decided it was best to give these beings a worthy funeral, and this we did. We marked Diana’s and Silpha’s final place of rest with two crosses, made of ice cream sticks and quietly resumed to our every day lives.

A few days later, we attempted to make a second generation of water pets, but these were nowhere near as wonderful as their predecessors. They were quickly forgotten, to the degree that I don’t remember how they met their end.

But somewhere in suburbian Sweden, there are two tombs, containing a pair of water pets, very much loved and cherished during their short time on earth.