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Belinda Says Hay: ”I Am Not Irish”

belinda says hey not irish

Hello. It’s Belinda.

My roommate says everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. She wore a green hat all day yesterday and kept calling us weird names. O’Malley and Murphy and Kelly.

It started right after breakfast. We could hear her upstairs in the fridge and then the yelling.

“Hey, Belinda O’Brien! Want some greens?”

She told us greens were the perfect food for the day. Cilantro, romaine, red leaf lettuce. I agree.

For herself, she cooked potato soup and I don’t know what else but it smelled horrible. My boyfriend’s companion and I spent the day on the bottom floor. A little fresher, if you know what I mean.

The nicknames and the odors made her happy so I tried to be a good sport. But I drew the line at being called Irish.

Nothing wrong with people from Ireland or wannabes. But I’m from New Zealand. Which makes me a “Kiwi,” according to what I read on the web.

And I’ve been reading a lot about my homeland lately, if you want to know the truth. I have a birthday coming up next month. Makes me wonder about my early years.

I have no idea how I got to the United States. Not sure what’s a bigger mystery—how I got here, or the fact that I can’t remember the plane ride or anything before it.

The shelter knows, which is why they put “New Zealand White” on my adoption sheet. But I moved here before I got the whole story. Can’t stop thinking about it.

My boyfriend used to say I should let it go. “Why dig up old dirt?”

Well some things you can’t change. It’s in your DNA.  I might be an American now and I like living here with my roommate and having a job. But I’m also a digger.

And speaking of DNA, I thought a home DNA test would help. So my roommate bought me one for Christmas. Get this—it turns out the kit’s for humans, not rabbits. That’s what happens when you shop for gifts at the last minute. No time to read the fine print.

She said if we sent my saliva to that company it would “upset the scientists.” Then she laughed.

Well to me there is nothing funny about this situation. You can wear green hats all the day long and peel potatoes into a bowl. That doesn’t make you Irish but you can play along. In the meantime, I don’t even know if I have a holiday.

I like being the only spokesrabbit, though somedays it’s a lonely row to hoe.

But when everyone around you is Irish, it’s even lonelier to be a Kiwi-American.



Spokesrabbit, Small Pet Select

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