Present Company

I have an eight-year-old daughter. This means that we have pets--more than one and always the chance for more. You see this in movies or read it in books about children. Little girls love animals, especially young ones, and will freely inquire about taking them in.

I should have seen this coming. Even before my daughter was born, my wife, Diane--a grown woman who readily complained about dog hair and cleaning the litter box--could not resist taking in a stray kitten who found its way to our porch in Watauga County. We already had a cat at the time and my wife insisted she was allergic. But it didn't matter. It was a long-haired calico, it belonged with us!

Not long after, a group of raccoon triplets were making their way across our front lawn. Diane was enthralled. I tried to explain to her that things were not as they appeared. "But they're so cute!" She insisted, reaching down to pick up the nearest. The ensuing scene was telling. Raccoon babies don't look quite the same when their backs are raised up and they are hissing and bouncing around like Taz. I am not sure who was the more angry, though. Diane seemed to imagine that the thing should be ashamed of itself for not letting her cuddle with it. The experience left her momentarily disgusted and she steered clear of nature for about a week. And then she discovered that den of bunnies in the shrubbery...

Apart from a few butterflies and a brief stretch with a clam, our house has lately been reserved for more domesticated creatures. Here is an update on some of the other members of the Evans' household:

Atticus is a Sheltie. Sheltie is an abbreviation for Shetland Sheepdog. But to most people it means miniature collie. There is actually no such thing as a miniature collie but if there were, this is exactly what they would look like. Atticus has been the subject of a few of my sermons. This is probably a compliment because it means that he is capable of things like attitude, behavior and personality. I used to get angry at him because he would always bark and make a scene around other dogs but act perfectly normal around any human. But I've figured out in the last few months that this is not a personality problem. Atticus just does not know he is a dog. It sounds weird and that's probably why it took me so long to get it but I am pretty sure that it is true. And it makes sense if you think about it. The pack that he runs with are all people and the only times he sees other dogs is when he is out for a walk or a hike or maybe at the vet. He even barks at his own reflection... Do you suppose there are people who think they're dogs?

We don't have any cats right now. Diane swore them off when we left Watauga County seven years ago. If you're a cat person, that's a long time to go without a cat. But since 3/5 of our family are not, it will probably a lot longer before I see another cat.

My daughter is responsible for the rest of our animals. These are what I call quick-decisions pets. Right now, we have a fish (Beta) that now lives in the office here at the church and two dwarf hamsters that live in a plastic mansion in my daughter's bedroom.

The Beta is named Ruby, mostly because our last fish was Turquoise and Mallory wanted to stay with the precious-gem theme. Ruby has really grown on me, mostly because he (I know, but it's not like you can see anything) is so resilient. Not only has he lasted for nearly two-years, Ruby has suffered the experience of fading affection. Right? Because that's what happens. A little girl gets a pet, a kitten or a mouse or whatever... But soon enough the newness wears off. Or, worse yet, her affections fall in the next adorable direction... And we're talking about a fish in this world. I mean, imagine competing with things like kittens and bunnies. Heck, stuffed animals can probably draw more affection than a Beta... And yet, Ruby soldiered on. He was even expelled from the house. But God is good. He landed in the church office, right next to Michele, our administrative assistant. She's probably the nicest little girl in the world so Ruby is just fine.

Obviously I am partial to Ruby. And for all kinds of reasons--not the least of which being low-maintenance. So you can imagine my disappointment [Sheltese for disgust!] to learn that our Beta had been replaced by a rodent. Hamsters, even dwarf hamsters, are pretty much everything fish are not. Unless, of course, you fail to clean their bowl.

Enter Peanut and, just a few days later, Chestnut. This is why parents need to avoid commercial pet stores. We need to just stay away because this is what happens. Of course, they have dogs and cats and birds at places like this. But who buys a cat or dog from Pet-mart? If you take a child into one of those places, parents have got to know that they are going to be confronted with guilt and pleading. You're almost certain to leave the place with something that poops. So unless you can discipline yourself and get a fish, it's like choosing to live in Calcutta.

Diane must have sensed this would have been one of those rare times when I would have tried to play my man-of-the house card. [Like it would have mattered...] So the girls went on their own--twice! And now we've got a room full of plastic and two hamsters. [I keep trying to put a "p" in there because it would then rhyme so easily with dumpsters. But the spellchecker won't have it...]

Now to be fair, the rodents have worked out pretty well. We bought an air freshener and Diane actually takes the time to get the critters out. It sort of works as a mother-daughter bonding time. I let Atticus in there when they have them running around in those little balls. But I'm really hoping my daughter starts noticing kittens!

All in all, it is a bit of a microcosm--a little of this and a little of that. Not unlike the world in general. And, of course, it's not over. I wonder sometimes what other creatures will share my time on this planet. It's a good thing--even the rodents. Diane likes to go on and on about how cute they are when they "clean themselves." Is that what they're doing?