Our unplanned personal petland

People in our neighbourhood have a thing for dogs. Our neighbour releases her hound for barking practice at least three times a day.  A pit bull named "Angel" frequents our park across the street. Another woman brings her border collies to play fetch.  

Apparently, few in our area have heard of the no-leash dog park one kilometre south of us. That park is so popular that the city just built a new parking lot for it.  

I enjoy seeing dogs run around... in a confined area far away from my home. That's really the extent of my love for dogs, even though I may have once had a fondness towards. The fondness ended in my childhood after four of our dogs died in succession. You see, for a time my family had a penchant for buying overly active dogs that liked to chase everything from cows to cars. The car chases rarely ended well. Even cow chases sometimes ended in injury. 

It was only when we were given a Rottweiler that the string of deaths finally came to an end. People feared coming onto our yard, but it was an acceptable trade-off. 

On the farm, having a guard dog is understandable. Or at least a dog that will keep the deer at bay, which was becoming a constant problem for my parents (their evergreens were no longer so green). In the city, I don't want a dog confined to my home. 

In fact, I'm okay without any animals. Do I need an animal to snuggle up to me when I come home from work? Not really. Do I need a so-called companion? I'm happily married, so again, not really. Do I sound like a complete deadbeat dad when I tell my daughter an average pet costs $30/month? Probably. (I haven't actually told her that, by the way.)   

Despite my distaste for most domesticated critters, this past month I caved. My wife wanted a canary. So she phoned me one day from a pet store and indicated her intentions. I understood. After all, I have cravings, too. Usually for non-living things that require little to no maintenance or affection, but there's a give-and-take in every marriage. 

My daughter and her non-dog

Then it was my daughter's turn. Her friend, God bless her, got a dog as an early Christmas present. Naturally, this made my daughter wonder why she couldn't have a furry, affectionate animal to slobber all over her. She knew a dog was out of the question, so she contemplated a hamster. Hamsters are okay, I suppose, but they're still rodents. Coming from a farm, I'm so used to killing rats and mice I'm not sure how I would react (I'm very unpredictable).  

But then I surprised even myself when I suggested a cat. I must have a subconscious love for felines. They can be cuddly without being clingy; they're somewhat independent and don't require outdoor bathroom breaks.  

So last week my wife and I visited the Humane Society and made the plunge. My daughter's first response? "So does this mean we're not getting a hamster?" Child, we thought to ourselves, you're getting the equivalent of a sports car instead of a tricycle! Forget the furry rodent! 

She forgot about it soon enough. The cat is (so far) a fine companion and also offers great entertainment. It's amazing how she always finds a way onto our canary's cage. 

But this, I certainly hope, is the extent of our pet adventures.  

While I concede that a hamster may still one day be in the offing, I can assure you, it won't be a dog.