Creative Pet Urns

Yo Yo ladies and fellows, this is your pet aficionado Franky Fresh again, and I want to reminisce about my favorite flippered friend, a catfish I liked to call Flava.  Now Flava was no ordinary catfish, he had to keep it funky fresh, and he hated it when I put anything is his fish tank that wasn’t gilded with gold.  Though Flava was all about the bling, he still gave back to his community.  Like a true original gangsta cleans up his streets, Flava would clean up the algae in his tank, and preach to those pesky snails often too full of themselves to do their jobs. 

Flava led a long and fulfilling life that ended all too fast, and I couldn’t stand the thought of bringing another catfish to fill his empty tank.  So I sold Flava’s tank, and all his bling, and bought a clock pet urn to preserve his ashes and his memory.  I look up now and then, raise my glass to that gangsta catfish, and know that he’s looking down, telling me to follow his lead, get off my rear, and do my best to clean up the streets in my neighborhood.

Yo everyone, this is your boy Franky Fresh again, and I want to take a moment to preach on a sensitive subject.  Now ya’ll know how Franky Fresh loves his furry little Gs, and I want to tell ya’ll about a chill feline named Biggie.  Biggie and I grew up in a rough neighborhood, so rough in fact that I would lie in my bed and wonder if Biggie would come home at all that night.  But Biggie always came back, that feline was a straight gangsta, he knew those streets, knew how to hustle for a can of tuna, and knew when to turn tail and leap to the nearest balcony. Biggie took care of me growing up, he’d sleep on my bed, share my dinner, and take care of my little brother too. 

Biggie stuck with me as long as he could, but the day came when he had to retire to thug mansion, to chill with the likes of Tupac Shakur, Sam Cook, and Miles Davis.  I had a rough patch when Biggie passed, but I checked out some cat memorials and now his ashes reside on my mantle.  Now and then I’ll sit in my living room and raise a glass to that original gangsta, and know that he’s smiling down from above in much better company.