The Farm

All of this moving around the world with a baby business has caused Aaron and I to come to a sad decision: the pets need to go...to another home. I know, I know, when you adopt a pet, it should be a permanent commitment, and at the time, it was. But having a baby changed things. The emotions I had for my dog got mysteriously transferred to my child and now I can finally see my exceedingly dumb dachshund for what she really is...loud, (barking at 6am) dumb, (doesn't respond to any commands) and stubborn (still pees on carpet when left alone). And the cat...well, I was never a cat person to begin with...all the litter being tracked around the house, the incessant licking of the fur, the destroying of the furniture...bleh. Blogger Amber Dusick describes this transition from pet love to pet annoyance perfectly here. Read it. It's hilarious and soooooo true.




So all of this thinking about finding the pets new homes (I will never part with them unless it is to a really good home by the way) has got me thinking about the many pets I've had in my life and what became of all of them. My family moved around a lot and my parents had to deal with this kind of thing too and it makes me kind of question some of the stories I was told about where the pets went. Now I'm not making any accusations here, but two of them sound a bit fishy to me:

• Flopsy the rabbit- Broke his foot so he went to go live with some other rabbits on a little rabbit farm until he got better...he never came back.

• Wrinkles the beagle/basset mix- was too energetic for our small yard so he went to go live on a big farm where he could run around a lot. (I'm sensing a farm related theme)

And then there are the stories that parents tell their children to protect them from the awful truth about what actually happened to their pet. This works out fine until 10 or so years later, the following conversation happens at the dinner table at your husband's (then boyfriend's) house:

Aaron: Remember that time when Pal (golden retriever) killed Sarah's rabbit?

Sarah: (open mouthed look of horror) Gasp! I though she ran away!

Aaron: Oops.


Sigh...having pets as a kid taught me a lot about responsibility and the natural course of life. Many of our family pets met a very unfortunate fate:

• Jill's hamsters- got forgotten outside in the heat of the day and roasted to death

• Toby the mutt- got touched by a poisonous Brazilian frog (or so I was told).

• Aaron's iguanas Barbarino 1 & 2- force fed to death. I guess good intentions can kill.
  

Not all of my childhood pet memories ended in tragedy though...

• Johnny and Michelle- Our beloved pair of parakeets. Johnny was mine and Michelle was Jill's (probably named after one the characters of Full House). They lived in our bedroom with us and whenever I would play the piano, Johnny bird would sing along. I even wrote a song just for him. We would beg mom to let us let them out of their cages and they would fly around the house spreading seeds and poop far and wide. But we loved them. When we moved to Texas they went to live with a family that had a bunch of kids. Jill and I delivered Johnny and Michelle to the other kids ourselves and were happy that some other kids got to enjoy them.
• Bell- Our family dog of 11 years. She was a dachshund/chihuahua mix and probably the smartest dog there will ever be of that breed. She was loyal, calm, and a really good hunter. She died of old age a few years ago and now a huge ceramic frog sits in my parents' front yard in her memory (she used to sit stone still in the garden for hours waiting for an unfortunate frog to hop out).

I cannot end a post about pets I've had in my life without mentioning George, our pet monkey that we had when we lived in Brazil (I was about 7ish years old). I can't tell you what kind of monkey he is...I've never seen one ever again in a zoo or on tv or anywhere like him. His mother was shot by some hunters in the jungle and George was brought to us as a tiny baby monkey. He was about the size of a mouse and we fed him milk with an eyedropper until he grew into something about the size of large rat. He had a black face and a long tale and I named him George after Curious George (how original). He roamed freely between our house and our yard and loved to hang out with us when we would swing with dad in the hammocks on our front porch. He was probably the coolest pet we ever had. Unfortunately he met his end when a local Cocker Spaniel confused him for a chew toy. That was a tearful day in the LaFara household. This picture was the closest thing I could find to what he looked like. I guess he was some sort of Tamarin.

And now I am the grown up who has the awful task of relocating the family pets to new homes. I kinda wish I could just come home from school tomorrow and hear mom tell me that they went to live on a really nice farm with some kids who really love them...but then we all know what that really means huh? So I guess I don't really want that.