I am an animal lover. I grew up with both cats and dogs. Family lore has it that as a toddler, I shared a room with one of our basset hounds and her new puppies. I would wake in the morning, standing in my crib shouting, “Babies, babies, babies,” while pointing at the newborn pups.
I loved growing up with animals. But the truth is, while our “family” had pets, I’m pretty confident that 99% of the time my mom took care of those furry friends. Gee, I wish I’d realized that sooner!
After graduating from college and securing a job and an apartment, guess what I got? My very own cat. I was the responsible adult, calculating what my monthly expenditures of food, litter, treats, an occasional cat toy, plus estimates of yearly veterinarian bills, would cost. I added pet-ownership to my budget and nearly 18 years later, Shadrach, the world’s meanest cat, was still my pet.
When my husband and I got married, he brought two Cavalier King Charles Spaniels to the marriage. They were the sweetest, most loving dogs. Despite their excessive shedding (I could have made a third dog at the end of the day with all that dog hair!), I adored those pups. Naturally, Shadrach hated them. Oh, wait. My cat hated EVERYONE.
Flash forward a few years: I have three in diapers (a newborn, a toddler, AND one dog) and one angry cat living in the bomb shelter (when you express your disdain for babies by ditching the litter box, that’s where you are relegated).
And then, in the course of 6 months, all three animals died. And we were sad.
So I said NO to more animals. I said NOT UNTIL I’M READY.
Because guess what I knew? I knew YES meant that I was getting a pet.
Who would take care of this pet? Not my kids, not my husband. ME.
When did we get a dog? When I said it was time. I decided that when my youngest was in school all day, we would get a dog. The summer before my son started first grade, Petra arrived.
Oh, we all fell in love with her. The cutest, furriest (non-shedding!!!) little canine. But, SHE fell in love with me. Perhaps Petra loves me too much. Fact: she only poops for me.
All was well in pet world, the place where I was responsible for ONE animal. Until the cries and pleas for small rodents began. Save your money, I told the kids. And they did.
We had the talk. The guinea pigs will be YOUR responsibility. They agreed and I believed them. Fool that I am.
The kids did feed them and give them fresh water and change the bedding and play with them, initially. But, then their interest waned.
Being the responsible grown-up and animal-lover, I would never walk past an empty food bowl or a drained water bottle. Now, I’m their number one person. I’ve even been known to buy them fresh, organic kale (hey, the co-op was out of “regular”). They literally squeal with excitement when I walk into the room.
Now I’m the most popular one in the house. At least with the dog and the two guinea pigs.
Heed my warning: If you think your kids are getting a pet, think again. YOU are getting a pet.
