Pets are wonderful things. Most who own them are some of the most well-adapted people I know – and I’m not just saying this because I’ve run out of ideas for the last column I’ll write as Reveille editor.
Outside of journalism, I feel the strongest about the way the people perceive the other creatures living among them. For example, I think it is absurd that people will rally and protest things such as abortion and euthanasia and then shoot the neighbor’s cat because “they don’t like cats.” Growing up in a family of hunters, I could never condemn the hunter, but just because humans top the food chain doesn’t mean all creatures below are disposable. And though most animal activists will argue about animal captivity, I’m not quite ready to take a stand on whether or not wild animals like Mike V need to be caged. But when it comes to domesticated animals, in my opinion, the planet’s furry creatures can offer Homo sapiens more than just companionship.
I live with Astro and Daisy, a pair of chinchillas (think a rodent cross between a rabbit and a squirrel) and two aquariums. At work I take care of the Speedy the office turtle and one betta fish. I have visitation rights to Skeeter, the dachshund mutt my old roommate and I adopted. I’ve also been that person who cleans up after the animals at the pet store. The job taught me how to recognize the difference between those who probably lead a caring life and those who probably put themselves first in life. In short, animals are the test; those who can handle taking care of another creature usually are the kind of selfless individuals that lead the fullest lives.
Though my method is not fool-proof, consider the reasons some parents will buy pets for their children. Even with a pet as small as a fish, on one hand there is the parent who buys their child a pet to teach them how to be responsible. This person comes in and asks the clerk for the heartiest fish or the best environment for their new friend. When the clerk recommends they wait 24 hours after setting up their tank before buying the fish, they usually come back the next day. I can predict that they will ask questions or browse the Internet just to make sure they are doing everything they can to care for the tiny, seemingly non-intelligent creature.
On the other hand, some parents will come in to buy their child the fish they’ve been wanting. Disney’s “Finding Nemo” really brought out this crowd. They demand a small, cheap aquarium with a colorful fish. I can’t count how many times I’ve told people they couldn’t put the two types of fish they had picked out in the same tank and they then growled at me. These fish die soon. Their owners flush them away and return to the pet store the next week for another “object.”
Not every animal hater is an cold-hearted person. But I wouldn’t put faith in this type of person’s leadership, caregiving or ability to empathize. I’m definitely afraid of putting this person in any job where they must deal with people, especially if they must recognize the effects of what they do on others. Owning pets offers us a way of developing our people skills.
Especially after taking care of a friend’s house this weekend, I’ve found it valuable to recognize that I can forego a wild Friday night to house-sit with a group of animals like Archie, the black lab; Marshall, Zen and Molly, three cats; Peanut, the squirrel; a group of raccoons and one opossum. For one night, all these living creatures depended on me, and I was fine with giving up my night for them. Maybe I didn’t get to spend the entire night out with friends. I didn’t find Mr. Right and go home with him. I sacrificed a night for a group of animals and a friend. And when I awoke with both Archie and Marshall curled up on top of me, I still had on the same smile I would have had if I had spent Friday partying.
Perhaps the best example of the claim that animals make great people is that the reason I had to house-sit and take care of my friend’s pets was that she was off donating her kidney to someone.