The Petshop

As Gerald shut the door he knew that the police had nothing on him. This wasn’t his fault. It was business. In business you can’t show compassion. No matter how big or how small the business is. Whether you are a huge multi national company or just a struggling local pet shop. Money is money. The police and the RSPCA had tried to lay some proportion of the blame on him but he knew it wasn’t his fault.

Gerald could see how people may assume that he is partly responsible; but then if they did think like that then they weren’t looking at the whole picture. He needed to sell animals. That is the primary function of a pet shop is it not? What people do with the animals after they have brought them from him is no business of his. Even if he originally became suspicious with the old dear who kept buying a new animal every week. At first he thought she was dotty and was just filling her house up with a myriad of creatures to stave off the sense of loneliness which surrounds his ‘older’ customers. Then he heard the rumours of what she did to the animals. Well rumours are rumours. No one needed to pay any real attention to what other old women said. One day though she had admitted to Gerald as she was buying a Russian hamster that the rumours were true. Gerald sold her the hamster anyway. He needed the money. His business had been flagging and any money given was always received. He sold it to her. When she moved onto puppies and kittens he couldn’t say no. And anyway, what happens behind closed doors is nobodies business but the persons’ behind the door.