Unless you count our wilderness creatures living in our backyard, we are a completely pet-free home. Which is a real bummer for our animal-obsessed children. As they catch a glimpse of a Rhino on PBS' Nature, or pour through their Animal Weekly Reader books for the thousandth time, I am inevitably asked the following question:
How old do you have to be to get a (fill in the blank with animal of interest)?
The first time Heath asked this question was a couple of months ago when he had a playdate with a preschool pal who happens to have a cat or two. On our drive home he reminisced about the time the cat scampered across the living room floor and he actually got to pet the cat on his back. And then it came, the question full of great wonder and hope: How old do you have to be to get a cat?
I don't remember giving him the answer of eight years old, but he has long since reminded me that that was my answer. It was a completely arbitrary, plucked from thin air, answer. I suppose it seemed far away enough to put off having to explain that Daddy has the world's worst allergies known to man and a cat would put him over the edge. A Ropko cat is probably not in the cards.
But the question has not met its demise, so I have to put some additional thought into exactly what age I give. If it's an animal that isn't completely out of the question to have in one's home, but is a pet that I feel I would have to sleep with one eye open in case they escaped, I say, Ten. (Snakes, rats, Tarantulas.) If it's a pet that I find unsuitable for living in our house, but perhaps one day Heath will be living on a farm, I say, Forty-two. (Pigs, alligators, Roosters.) And the animals that are totally and completely out of the question for safety reasons (Rhinos, Cheetahs, Polar Bears), or extinction (Tyrannosaurus Rex, Triceratops, Pterodactyl), I say he has to be as old as Papa.
Tonight as we were wrapping up our second reading of Rainbow Fish and the Big Blue Whale, Heath inquired, How old do you have to be to have a whale?
A whale really wouldn't be happy living in the house. They need to stay in the ocean, I explained.
I'll put him the bathtub, he thoughtfully suggested.
I don't think the bathtub would be large enough, I countered.
I'll get a bigger bathtub. Or a smaller whale.
Once more I suggested, Whales just really need to stay in their natural habitat.
He wasn't budging. How old you gotta be?
As old as Papa.
At last, he was satisfied and ready to move onto the next book. Before I could start Black Bears, Heath lit up with an idea. How old do you have to be to get a goldfish?
I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me before that this would be an excellent starter pet. His class at preschool had a goldfish that they all named and fed and cared for. I was happy to deliver the good news. You know, I think you have to be four years old.
Heath took a very deep breath, clapped his hands, and woo-hooed. I expected him to launch into immediate plans for when we would be getting this goldfish and where we would be getting it and what we would be naming it. Instead he shouts, And when the goldfish dies, I can get that cat!
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
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