I am obviously completely out of the times when it comes to my vision of suburbia living. I always thought that it would be resplendent with Labradors, Huskies, Cocker Spaniels, Irish Setters, and the similar, but apparently, that’s not the case. At least in my neighborhood.
Everywhere I look, all I see are these teeny yippy dogs, which I have to confess, I’m not a fan of. And they are always being walked on cute, slender leashes by huge men. As they trot beside them daintily and then start barking at you if you look at them askance, which I always do.
What is with these small dogs? When did they become so popular? I mean, sure, they’re cute, but let’s face it, if you don’t live in the city with restricted space and an elevator, shouldn’t you have a burly dog, one that can bound around in joy and chase squirrels? Or am I delusional?
That is one of the reasons I never had a dog while living in Baltimore. I didn’t feel like it was fair to constrain a large dog to a small space. Secondly, I am severely allergic to animals. And finally, I grow too attached to my animal companions.
My mother always told me I did and I never believed her when I was a child, when she would say that I took loss too severely. But, I was the girl that always chose the runt of the litter, the smallest and weakest one because I wanted to nurse it back to health and shelter and protect it. Oftentimes, it backfired on me because the runt of the litter is the runt for a reason; despite my best efforts, sometimes my chosen one would sicken and die and I would cry and mourn for a long time.
I had two bunnies, Roo and Yuri, for about twelve years back when I was in Baltimore. I have written about them on my blog. And when Roo died, I knew that I probably could never have another bunny again, or even another “pet”. I lost both of them within the span of a year and them passing just cut too deeply.
“Just get another bunny! Or dog!” People said. As if it was that easy to replace them, as if it would just make you feel better because they’re just animals. People would never say that if someone lost a human child, they would be more sensitive about it, but just because you lost a non-human, suddenly it’s understandable that you can just substitute the old with the new.
Maybe I’m unusual or weird or however else you want to put it, but Roo and Yuri were really special to me. Through my hard times, when I didn’t even have family support and had limited friends, they were always there. They gave me comfort as they sat on my feet or looked up at me with understanding as I spoke to them while working or cooking at home. And they were always happy to see me, even if Yuri was surly (which I kind of liked). They chewed everything to bits, which caused me to rant and rave, but when I came home, they would be huddled together as huge balls of furs as they cuddled and then hopped up to greet me.
They didn’t need to always need to be by my side; actually, they often weren’t since they were potty trained and had free roam of the house so liked to lounge around wherever they chose to, but they were more than just pets or even friends. They were part of my heart.
So, although John has mentioned that perhaps we should get a puppy, I’m not so sure about that. He would hate the work that goes along with it, but I know that he would agree to get one if I wanted to. But I don’t think my heart could stand another loss like the ones I always felt when my pets as animal companions, friends, and yes as family, left me again.