While her underlings attempted to escape from their see-through Alcatraz, there was little to interest her outside the tank. That may have saved her from death by cat
Growing up, our house was full of animals. We seemed to collect them like Panini stickers or vinyl: welsh springer spaniels, rabbits, guinea pigs, too many cats to mention, terrapins, stick insects, giant African land snails and a siamese fighting fish.
Some of this menagerie were allowed to roam free around the house (including, perhaps inadvisably, the rabbits and guinea pigs – the furniture was covered in chew marks); others were housed in cages or tanks. But even the confined pets didn’t stay confined for long. The terrapins would frequently make a run for it, using the stone intended for them to bask on as a platform to freedom. We’d find them under the sofa or, in one notorious incident, at the bottom of the fridge, chomping lettuce (no, I have no idea how they got the door open). Still, for sheer Houdini-like escapology even the terrapins had nothing on the stick insects.
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