Posting Date: May 20, 2008
I Finally Cave to the Pet Request
The other morning my three children befriended a spider they found living in a candleholder. This is the type of thing kids who are denied pets do.
They called it “Spidey”. “Can we keep it, Mom? Please, can we? Can we?” they pleaded in earnest “Leave it to Beaver” style. “Sure, why not,” I replied. Spidey seemed low-maintenance enough and did not appear to be poisonous.
While the kids were in the kitchen getting breakfast, my husband came in and squashed Spidey in his Kleenex, unaware of its status as a new family member. My son saw it happen from the corner of his eye.
“Spidey!!!!! Nooooooo!!!!!” he cried, in horror movie fashion as he lunged in what seemed like slow motion toward the crime scene.
Too late.
The other children began to wail in anguish as well, mourning a creature they’d known all of eleven minutes. My husband peered into the tissue and tried to pretend it was still alive, then stepped outside to “set it free”. “Spidey is in a better place,” I actually heard myself say as I consoled them.
Listening to those words, I realized it was perhaps time to buy them a real pet. Cicadas, feral cats, raccoons, origami swans, carnival goldfish that didn’t make it through the night… my kids had made pets of all those and more in the past few years.
It was pathetic really.
My own childhood sprang to mind, and I thought back to how I yearned so intensely for a dog. I made my parents a scrapbook filled with pictures of puppies, played the “only child guilt game” to the hilt, and even got them as far as into the doors of a pet store… only to have my hopes crash down around me like a pyramid of Alpo cans.
“It really smells in here,” I recall my mom commenting with a scrunched up nose.
Alas, my mother’s germaphobia, neat-freakiness and Swedish mistrust for anything that might show too much affection took over. “Animals don’t belong in the house” was her excuse.
I was relegated to dragging expensive, realistic “Steiff” stuffed animals around the block pretending they were real.
Again, pathetic.
So after some Internet research, which led to falling wildly in love with a goldendoodle on a breeder’s website, I PayPal’ed an adorable puppy that we will pick up this month.
We can finally toss that creepy stuffed mutt I gave my daughter for Christmas that licks you in eerie robotic fashion while giving wet kisses, thanks to an internal pump/mildew harbor you fill with water.
Nope, no more fake pets for my family. And I’m pretty sure I am the most excited one in the bunch. I’m finally getting a living, breathing dog.
Of course, it will never replace Spidey, God rest his soul. But it will be a heck of a lot more fun to walk around the block.
Lisa Nelson is a veteran screenwriter who spent a decade in Hollywood writing sitcoms before returning to her Midwest roots (and decent pizza) to "star" in a real sitcom of her own. The mother of three. Lisa writes about the humorous side of family life (when her kids let her). Lisa is a recent recipient of an Illinois Womens' Press Association award. Contact her at lisa@swnewsherald.com.
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