I’ve never had a pet.
I’ve lived with people who had pets. My first roommate in North Carolina had a cat named Ray-Ray. Another roommate had a mini-Dachshund named Gabby (who I effing despised–both the roommate and the dog). At my second house in NC, my roommate Amy had a dog named Benny who only chewed my retainers once. But he was a good cuddler. And my roommate Loretta did long-term dog-sitting for her boyfriend while he was in Guam, so we also had a dog named Sasha who was Benny’s girlfriend.
But I’ve never had my own pet. Wait–I take that back. I had a goldfish named Suzy that I won at school in elementary school. Dad bought a little aquarium, and my little brother also got a goldfish and named it Buddy. They lived together peacefully for awhile. Suzy always came to the surface and kissed the tip of my finger when I dipped it into the tank. It wasn’t long, though, before Suzy’s tail began deteriorating. We couldn’t figure it out, until one day I saw Buddy attack Suzy from behind (and not in a good way), and he bit part of her tail off. It’s no surprise that this eventually killed Suzy. Buddy ATE Suzy. So I took a rock from the construction site behind my house and some light purple paint, and made a tombstone for Suzy. I buried her in the landscaping, only to go out to check on her the next day and see that my neighbor girl had dug her up and destroyed her tombstone.
Lately, I’ve been longing for something to come home to, since I no longer have Mike. I’ve been tossing around the idea of a pet. But if you’ve read my blog lately, you know how much of a miser I’ve become. I don’t like to spend a lot of money. So when I thought, “Hey, I’ll just get a little dog, one that doesn’t cost a lot to feed,” I thought I’d solved the problem. But when I started looking at little dogs, I realized I could feed myself for two years or more for the amount they cost. Plus I’m gone 9 hours a day. That’s not fair to a puppy to bring him home and try to raise him, but leave him alone. And if he looked at me like this:
It would break my heart.
Then I realized, too, that I don’t know if I want a little dog. I want a dog I can rest my head or my feet on. One that can run the neighborhood with me, and play fetch. I don’t want a huge dog, as it is Mike’s rule that he will never have a dog that poops bigger than him. So my Saint Bernard along with the Saint Berdoodle, and my Mastiffs are gone. That’s okay, though. They’re ridiculously big.
So I don’t have the time to devote to a pet. And I know cats are independent, but I’m not really all that fond of cats (sorry cat lovers). I just think they’re sneaky. And I do not trust them in my house. I’ve had my fair share of barn cats on my grandparents’ farm:
Pumpkin was screwed up in the head.
Muffin was cross-eyed and ran into walls every time it stormed.
Bart…well Bart regurgitated everything and then had seconds…of the same thing.
I saw a lot of these cats killed on country roads. Some in the driveway.
A bird maybe? I would never want to cage a bird, though. That’s why I had a bird feeder in Pennsylvania. I’d love a cardinal to call my own. Although I would love a pair of lovebirds. But they throw seeds! I know that will piss me off.
Ferrets creep me out.
I can’t pet a fish, and to be honest, what if we have a repeat of Buddy ate Suzy?
Hm. I think the birds are the best bet right now. Any ideas?