Skip to main content

Life with Ralf - my pet rat's tale | Essay for 10 year olds | Elijah Wee | Singapore

The following essay "Life with Ralf - my pet rat's tale" was composed when I was ten years old.



         The moment had come.

         As the doors of doom closed, tears fell like arrows of devastation from my mournful chestnut brown eyes. Just then, memories of Ralf like images on a movie reel started playing back in my mind …

         The day had finally arrived.

         A few days earlier, I had managed to persuade Father and Mother into allowing me to adopt a pet from SPCA. Oh, I can still smell the sweet scent of success of my momentous victory over Father and Mother.

         Entering the SPCA, I was met with a blur of animals in their enclosures, from cats lazing around to dogs barking for attention. However, none of the animals caught my fancy at first sight.

         Just then, at the corner of my eye, I spotted Ralf.

         At first when I saw Ralf, it could barely stand up. Then struggling to take a few steps forward, it looked like an old man needing the support of a walking stick. Its body seemed like it was scorched. I simply could not believe my eyes. What had happened to this poor little rat? Asking the SPCA assistant, I found out that Ralf once belonged to a boy who often mistreated it. The boy often forgot to feed Ralf. What made me especially shocked was that the boy had actually used matchsticks to light up Ralf’s once beautiful pristine-white fur, reducing it to its current coal-black charred state. The SPCA assistant added that Ralf faced a possibility of contracting skin cancer. I was totally enraged and shocked when I heard about the boy’s cruel acts. At that moment, my eyes met Ralf’s. Ralf’s eyes appeared to be glowing with hope and anticipation. It seemed to want to get out of there and I could be its one and only savior. Taking pity on Ralf, I made up my mind to keep Ralf as my pet.

         That day marked the beginning of my life with Ralf.

         With proper care and help, Ralf recuperated and was able to scamper around in its cage after several weeks. I was intoxicated with cheer and joy when I saw Ralf returning to health. The days that ensued saw me as cheery as a sunbeam, often playing with Ralf and laughing gaily at its antics. What could possibly go wrong? However, a blissful life for Ralf was not meant to be …

         The sun was scorching hot.

         Despite the immense heat and my heavy school bag, I willed myself to walk briskly back home. I really missed Ralf when I went to school and wanted to make up for “lost time” with it.

         Stepping into my room, where Ralf’s cage was displayed prominently on my mahogany desk, I was puzzled not to see the usually excited Ralf scampering to greet me. Instead, I found it hunched in the far dark corner of its cage. I was concerned. Reaching out gingerly and cuddling Ralf in my hands, I spotted a few large red lumps all over its body. Oh dear, was this a sign of the skin cancer the SPCA assistant had mentioned that Ralf could end up contracting? But it cannot be, can it? Terrible thoughts and fears on what was to come crept into my mind like an insidious snake. To confirm my innermost doubts, I resorted to telling Mother about Ralf’s red lumps. Moments later, Mother and I rushed helter-skelter to the nearby veterinarian, “Vets for Life”.

         To my horror, my utmost fears were confirmed irrevocably. The veterinarian offered me with two options to decide upon. One option was to let Ralf bear with its current agonising pain and suffering until its passing on which could happen in the next couple of weeks. The other was to get done what most pet owners dread to do – to put Ralf to seep. Not an easy decision to make. I chose the latter after a heart-wrangling deliberation. I did not want Ralf to suffer any more.

         With a heavy heart, I stretched my hand gingerly to stroke Ralf. Its glistening eyes appeared sad yet tinged with gratitude – sad to leave us; grateful to me for ending it current agony. Unable to hold back our emotions, Mother and I cried inconsolably, lamenting our impending loss.

         “It’s time,” the kind and compassionate veterinarian, Dr Chan, murmured as he placed his had gently on my right shoulder and motioned for us to leave the room. We cuddled Ralf for the last time, looked deeply into its eyes and mouthed our tearful farewell to Ralf before leaving the room reluctantly.

         To this day, Mother and I could still recall vividly the expression on Ralf’s face – one of relief and peace. Even now, the incident is still etched deeply in my mind and I will often at times look up to the skies and hope that Ralf has found happiness and is resting in peace in the heavens above …

It was indeed a sad day - may Ralf rest in peace. How did you find this story?

If you like reading this essay, you may also like:


Till the next time,

Photo credit: Big Fat Rat / Foter / CC BY-NC-ND

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Stuck in the lift | Short essay, story for kids | Elijah Wee | Singapore

"Stuck in the lift" - an experience I am sure a number of you may be able to relate to ... but in this particular case though, it was a little worse than the usual one ...              Brave.             I had always thought I was brave. As brave as a lion. Not fearful of anything.             Until the lift had broken down.             I was waiting patiently for the lift doors to open. A mother and her daughter waited patiently. The mother, clad in a light blue dress made of best quality material, clutched her daughter’s hand. Her lustrous blond hair cascaded down her well-toned shoulders. My innermost thoughts were soon jolted by the familiar mechanical sound of the lift’s doors opening. If only I had reconsidered taking the stairs …             Accompanied by the monotonous whirring sounds of the lift’s mechanical system, we were each absorbed in our thoughts as we looked on at the ascending numbers flashing in sequence on the lift display. Bump!

An act of kindness | Essay for Primary School kids | Elijah Wee | Singapore

" An act of kindness" , a essay I wrote earlier in Primary 4 (10 years old) ...           School was over.          “Mountains and mountains of homework! Why do our teachers have to give us so much homework these days?” lamented Jason as he trudged home with heavy footsteps on the pavement. His schoolbag weighed like a ton of bricks. Jason felt that sooner or later he would collapse because of the heavy weight! Jason’s face was as glum as an oyster and he was not in the best of moods.          However, Jason’s mood was soon destined to be changed.          At that juncture, from the corner of his deep-set eyes, Jason spotted an old man hobbling past him. He was a tall shrivelled person who looked as though all body juices had been dried out of him long ago in a hot oven. On his feet, he wore worn-out leather shoes, which looked as though they had been patched up a million times. The old man had scanty white hair, a wrinkly face which was as pale as death. He u

An Act of Bravery | Essay for kids | Elijah Wee | Singapore

"An act of bravery"  was an essay I wrote and was featured recently :-) Hope you like it.             Davin’s act of bravery was certainly admirable.             “Class, this is the new student, Davin Chang. Please welcome him as our new addition!” Mrs Phua, our teacher, informed everyone in her usual chirpy voice. Shooting a look at him, I instantly made a silent decision never to befriend him. Davin was as skinny as a twig and looked shy. What’s more, his school uniform was as old as the hill, indicating that he was probably living in extreme poverty. All of us must have shared the same thoughts, for everyone seemed to look at him in utter disgust. From that day onwards, we made an “oath” - never to befriend him. After all, why bother befriending Davin when he was poor and looked like a rodent?             I should have remembered back then not to judge a book by its cover.             Excitement bubbled in pupils like soda water as they dashed off towards