it shouldn't matter, but it does
We moved to Alaska with two cats.
At my high point, there were two cats, a dog, an army of fish, and a gecko.
I loved it. I had these whole routines. Feed the fish, water Leo, feed/say g'morning to my Konaface, etc.. I felt like a zookeeper. And it was awesome. I love the responsibility of having pets that depend on me.
But now we're back down to two cats.
I guess I still have fish, but I'm not really attached to them, though the big angelfish is kind of awesome. Mom's trying to find another home for them now, and that's fine with me. They weren't really mine to begin with. Karen drained her big 90-gallon tank last summer and was gonna flush her fish, so I saved them instead. All I have left are her fish. My fish all died last summer within a few days of each other in my massive extinction of death and disease. I killed all my fish.
Mom got rid of the dog over a year ago now. Very sad. Last Sunday I went and walked through the arboretum. The first half of the walk was amazing, but then I started thinking about how perfect it would be if only I had my dog romping around with me. And I spent the rest of the walk remembering him and all the things we did together. How it was us against the world baby! How he was the only one who would play with me every freakin day. How I taught him to high-five in one afternoon and how good he was at it. We could high five to anything. Climb up a mountain- we're on top of the world Kona! We did it! -high five!- Or just, hey, green jello! -high five!-. My heart still breaks for that puppy. We got him in April, and I know from then until at least the end of September, I only missed one or two days of walking/adventuring with him. That's a pretty good walking/adventuring rate if I do say so myself. Even if it was pouring out, we'd still go run around the neighborhood for a while. Then around Novemberish it started getting really cold and dark, and I didn't walk him so much anymore. I wouldn't play with him every day. I failed him. I don't know how much that contributed to mom taking him to the pound in December. Even if we did keep him then, she probably would have gotten rid of him as soon as I left for school. She wanted a dog at first, and she paid the vet bills, but all of the day to day responsibilities of having a dog were on me. I'm the only one who walked him and fed him. Nobody else in the family has the time/energy/motivation/room in their life to have a dog, so he would have been out of the fam eventually, but I still failed him.
And now Leo. I got him (though it's very possible he may have been a she- now we'll never know) with my first summer paycheck (he was pretty cheap, but the whole setup- tank, lights, substrate, etc came to about $150. cheap to maintain though- maybe a dollar a month for bugs to eat). June 15, 2006. Exciting day. And the cutest little lizard in the whole world! I don't know whether he'd still be alive or not if he were still under my care. I was a little hesitant sending him across the street with Karen and the boys because I know she's really busy and doesn't always take pet care super seriously. But she had geckos in college, already can handle the live bug thing (the boys have fire-belly toads), and I didn't think I'd be able to find anybody else to take him. So yeah, I don't know if he would have done better with somebody who could take better care of him or if it was just his time. He should have had a few more years left in him... Karen did have a referral for a reptile specialist to bring Leo in, but he didn't make it through the night. It shouldn't matter. After all, I'm in Idaho at school- can't see my AK pets and I can't have any pets here. And at the pet store when I got him, this girl said that geckos are like goldfish- if they die, you just get another one. No big deal. It shouldn't matter.
But we moved to Alaska with two cats. I added a dog, fish, and a gecko- put a lot of time and effort and love into them, and now I have nothing to show for it. I feel like a failure.
At my high point, there were two cats, a dog, an army of fish, and a gecko.
I loved it. I had these whole routines. Feed the fish, water Leo, feed/say g'morning to my Konaface, etc.. I felt like a zookeeper. And it was awesome. I love the responsibility of having pets that depend on me.
But now we're back down to two cats.
I guess I still have fish, but I'm not really attached to them, though the big angelfish is kind of awesome. Mom's trying to find another home for them now, and that's fine with me. They weren't really mine to begin with. Karen drained her big 90-gallon tank last summer and was gonna flush her fish, so I saved them instead. All I have left are her fish. My fish all died last summer within a few days of each other in my massive extinction of death and disease. I killed all my fish.
Mom got rid of the dog over a year ago now. Very sad. Last Sunday I went and walked through the arboretum. The first half of the walk was amazing, but then I started thinking about how perfect it would be if only I had my dog romping around with me. And I spent the rest of the walk remembering him and all the things we did together. How it was us against the world baby! How he was the only one who would play with me every freakin day. How I taught him to high-five in one afternoon and how good he was at it. We could high five to anything. Climb up a mountain- we're on top of the world Kona! We did it! -high five!- Or just, hey, green jello! -high five!-. My heart still breaks for that puppy. We got him in April, and I know from then until at least the end of September, I only missed one or two days of walking/adventuring with him. That's a pretty good walking/adventuring rate if I do say so myself. Even if it was pouring out, we'd still go run around the neighborhood for a while. Then around Novemberish it started getting really cold and dark, and I didn't walk him so much anymore. I wouldn't play with him every day. I failed him. I don't know how much that contributed to mom taking him to the pound in December. Even if we did keep him then, she probably would have gotten rid of him as soon as I left for school. She wanted a dog at first, and she paid the vet bills, but all of the day to day responsibilities of having a dog were on me. I'm the only one who walked him and fed him. Nobody else in the family has the time/energy/motivation/room in their life to have a dog, so he would have been out of the fam eventually, but I still failed him.
And now Leo. I got him (though it's very possible he may have been a she- now we'll never know) with my first summer paycheck (he was pretty cheap, but the whole setup- tank, lights, substrate, etc came to about $150. cheap to maintain though- maybe a dollar a month for bugs to eat). June 15, 2006. Exciting day. And the cutest little lizard in the whole world! I don't know whether he'd still be alive or not if he were still under my care. I was a little hesitant sending him across the street with Karen and the boys because I know she's really busy and doesn't always take pet care super seriously. But she had geckos in college, already can handle the live bug thing (the boys have fire-belly toads), and I didn't think I'd be able to find anybody else to take him. So yeah, I don't know if he would have done better with somebody who could take better care of him or if it was just his time. He should have had a few more years left in him... Karen did have a referral for a reptile specialist to bring Leo in, but he didn't make it through the night. It shouldn't matter. After all, I'm in Idaho at school- can't see my AK pets and I can't have any pets here. And at the pet store when I got him, this girl said that geckos are like goldfish- if they die, you just get another one. No big deal. It shouldn't matter.
But we moved to Alaska with two cats. I added a dog, fish, and a gecko- put a lot of time and effort and love into them, and now I have nothing to show for it. I feel like a failure.