Just Say No

Owen has starting begging for a dog. Apparently, EVERY person he knows has a dog except for him. Apparently, we are very unfair parents for depriving him of a pet. I think it shows that we are sane and using good judgment, as I have never, ever had good luck with pets. From childhood, every single pet I have ever owned has been difficult, crazy, or aggressive.

First, I had the pet hamster in fifth grade. My smart parents didn't want an indoor dog, and our rental house had no fence for an outdoor dog. I started off with a hamster because I had seen one on television, and they looked small and harmless. I had visions of carrying it around in my pocket or backpack, with its cute little face looking up at me. Taffy, as I named this fur ball, was a tan and white hamster with lots of fluffy hair. He was so cute. Since I hate all things about rats and mice, I do not know what possessed me to think that I would like a hamster. I guess I was just desperate since everything but a fish had been ruled out. Taffy looked cute in his little pet store cage where he harmlessly nibbled some pellets. The cedar chips in the cage smelled good, and I was overtaken. Once I got Taffy home, I soon became fearful of handling him. He was aggressive and often bit my hands which would cause me to drop him rapidly to the floor, possibly causing some brain damage. Then, there was the fact that this was a nocturnal animal. Why don't they tell you that the hamster will stay awake all night long running on that wheel? Eventually, Taffy died of a tumor which the pet store said was a common disease among that breed. They offered me a free replacement. Umm, no thanks.

Next, there was Tabby the cat. She was a mean cat who loved to play the game of "chase Michelle around the house and scratch her feet." She seemed to know that she could intimidate me, which added to her fun. She appeared to be much more loving with my younger siblings who have these cute photographs of them holding her while she cuddles up to their chin. All I remember is leaping onto my bed and never wanting my bare ankles to touch the ground for fear that sharp claws would grab them.

Once we moved to Colorado, my parents surprised us with a Lhasa Apso puppy which we named Tiffy (see how we like the "T" theme for names?). She was actually the only pet that I have some loving and fond memories of. She was very sweet and affectionate. She would cuddle on the couch with us while we watched television, and she looked so cute after she went to the groomers and had little bows on her ears. However, she had a major bladder issue. Too bad they didn't have Depends for dogs! Every time she would get excited (happy or scared), she would piddle on the floor. I don't remember a single day when we weren't cleaning up after her! Now, I see myself as the homeowner, and I definitely don't want to buy a dog for my kids if it will piddle on the carpet all day long! All I have to do is go into my laundry room and remember how much work I put into cleaning and repairing the damage done by a dog, and I come out reaffirmed in my commitment not to have an indoor dog.

After I got married, I switched to cats for the pet of choice. We lived in apartments and had no yard, so dogs were not practical. Since I am not a "cat person," I don't know what I was thinking! Our first cat Darby was actually very loving, but that was the problem. He didn't want us to shut him out of any room in the apartment! Even if we had company sleeping in our guestroom, he wanted free access to their room. Many times, Darby would be headbutting their door, or the bathroom door, to gain access to our guests. All. night. long. If that wasn't sucessful, he would begin to tear up the carpet under the door. When we moved out, we thought we would lose our deposit in the apartment because of the large, bare holes under every door. Luckily, they were going to update and recarpet the whole apartment anyway, so we weren't charged! Darby died suddenly of poisoning after we moved into a new apartment where he must have found some bait left by the previous tenants. I was actually sad when we lost him, as he was very sweet. However, I wouldn't want a pet that I couldn't shut in a room to keep it contained. I also never want bare carpet holes around my house again.

Stuart was so sad that we lost Darby, that I finally consented to getting yet another cat. Bad, bad decision. Daisy was our last pet, and she was mean and crazy. I think she got traumatized at the vet during her first few months when she had so many flea issues and dips. She eventually began to hate all people (except Stuart), and she became very aggressive. For nine long years, we endured her. She would stalk our guests, hiss at everyone who got near her, and have to be sedated to go to the vet. We even discussed using Valium on a regular basis for her behavior! She would bite or lunge at you if you invaded her space . . . which meant even entering a room she was in. Whenever we shut her in a closed room to keep our guests safe, she would howl and bang the door with her head for hours. We eventually stopped entertaining much. By the time we had Owen, it was getting ridiculous to try to keep Daisy happy and keep Owen safe. When he was two, she attacked his face viciously with her claws and drew blood, and that was the end of that. We finally took the vet's suggestion to put her to sleep, as she was not adoptable due to her extreme aggression. It just wasn't safe to keep her in our home with a two year old and another baby on the way. After she was gone, I felt I had been released from prison and felt free in my own home for the first time in years. A cat no longer controlled our lives.

So, now when Owen asks for a pet, I envision it being like the movie "Marley and Me" where the dog pretty much destroys everything in its path and rules their family routine. I just don't think I can go there again, not yet.

So, for now, I'm just saying no.