Shamus The Shark.      Amazing what bargains can be found lurking in the Classified section, isn't it?

 

Ok, maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea to ask for a shark for my birthday. I do tend to have my daft moments, and as daft moments go, this was probably one of my daftest.

It had been what my mum tells me is called an ‘impulse buy’. That’s when you see something and think “I’ve got to have it.” It just seems like such a good idea at the time that you simply can’t resist.

In my case I’d just finished reading about United’s fantastic 3-0 victory in the local paper when my eye was caught by an advert in the Pets section. It had a little box round in that made it stand out. “SHARK FOR SALE” it said, in big letters. “Loving, cuddly, great with kids. Going cheap at just £80. Will deliver.” Then the phone number.

“Eighty quid??” exclaimed Dad when I suggested we give them a ring. That’s how he reacts to everything, mind you. If you asked him a simple question like whether he wants red or brown sauce on his bacon butty, he’d go: “Brown sauce?? On my butty?!? BROWN SAUCE??!!?” He’s like that. Drama king.

Anyway, when he’d come down off the ceiling and calmed down a bit, he gave in. He always does. All I had to do was sniffle once or twice, sigh a lot, let my shoulders droop and say, “Oh well, never mind Dad, I suppose there are more important things in life than your son’s happiness,” then drag myself off at a snail’s pace to my room, letting out a little sob every now and then.

Half an hour later it was sorted, and at six o’clock that evening the knock came at the front door.

“You the bloke wot’s bought the shark?” asked a muscly man in a white rubber coat and white rubber boots, standing on the doorstep. “Sign here.”

Behind him stood two more white rubbery men, holding a giant plastic bag full of water ..... and a baby shark.

“Is that it?” roared Dad. “Call that a shark?? I’ve seen bigger fish down Bert’s Chippy!! In the kiddies’ portions too!!”

“It’s a baby shark,” explained the head rubberman. “Don’t worry, " he smiled wickedly, "It’ll soon grow.”

Between them they carried it through to the back garden, where we’d filled the paddling pool in preparation. Though it was only small it must have weighed a fair bit, because they were red-faced and panting with the strain by the time they were done. Soon it was exploring its new environment, swimming lazily in circles, with hardly a ripple disturbing the smooth surface of the water.

“I shall call him Shamus,” I decided. “Shamus the Shark.”

                                             
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Luckily Shamus had come with an instruction book. I settled down on the edge of the pool and opened it up. First I turned to the chapter titled: 'Food'.

“Sharks enjoy all seafood,” I read, “and also have a taste for human meat, particularly raw and fleshy. For this reason it is usually best to keep your hand out of the water when feeding. In case of loss of finger, arm, leg or any other body part, please contact a doctor immediately. That’s strange, I thought, edging a little further away from the grey, circling form below, the advert said it was great with kids.

Next I turned to the page on Care. “Sharks can make very loyal pets, but their eyesight is extremely poor and they have a memory span of only 23 seconds. They tend to treat all strangers as enemies, and so we advise you to approach with caution, and only when wearing steel-reinforced gloves or full metal body armour.”  Hm, I thought. Cuddly??

Flicking through the book I came to the section on Growth. “Baby sharks may be only 30-40cm in length,” I read out loud, “but within six months can grow amazingly quickly, up to a maximum length of 4 metres.”

“Four metres?!” gasped Dad. I could tell he was having second thoughts already. “We’ll have to hire Denton Swimming Pool to keep him in!”

“Should make school swimming lessons interesting though,” I remarked. “You’d soon learn to swim with one of them behind you, nibbling at your toes. And it would solve the problem of feeding, too. Save us a fortune!”  I always try to look at the positive side.

Dad wouldn’t have it though, “How can it be loving when its first instinct is to bite your arm off??  We haven’t got a suit of armour to cuddle it in, and it’s only great with kids if you want them to disappear into its belly for fish food! It’s going back in the morning, and if you want anything else that’s going cheap, you can have a budgie!”

He likes his little jokes, does Dad.