The dreaded day

Cady Gray's class took a field trip to the recycling center and a local park today.  I wasn't aware until she was telling me about the excursion that our city animal shelter was a part of the itinerary.  After excitedly telling me what her friends' favorite dogs were, and the characteristics of the dogs she like best, she finally came out with it: "Do you think we could ever have a dog?"

My family certainly had dogs when I was Cady Gray's age, and intermittently throughout my upbringing.  Now I wonder what impulse led them to get a dog in the first place.  Our first dog, a poodle, predated me and died of old age when I was still small.  I think it was a few years before we got our next dog, a Chihuahua mutt, and it was probably at my urging; I certainly know that it was thought of as my dog.  Then the final dog of my youth was acquired after we moved out to a more expansive property out of town -- a good-natured, galumphing Irish setter.

Cady Gray is just four months into her very first official pet (other than the occasional caterpillar or minnow) -- a betta fish that she cares for very well.  But as I"ve said before, it's hard for me to imagine adding a dog or cat, no matter how small and unobtrusive, to this little house.

When Cady Gray asked her question from the backseat, before we could even formulate an answer, Archer piped up, "I don't want a dog.  I wouldn't like that."  It's rare for him to have such a definite opinion, and even rarer for him to express it categorically.  We heard out his reasons (dogs might bark all the time like when you're trying to watch a TV show that you really like), and knew that underneath is a fear of dogs jumping on him that goes pretty deep.  So we explained to Cady Gray that right now our house is too small for a dog, and it's not OK with Archer, but things could change.

Her eyes welled up, but when I asked if she understood, she nodded tearfully.  I contorted myself from the driver's seat to hold her hand.  A few minutes later she interjected a comment into a discussion of Governor of Poker, and I knew everything was all right for the moment.  As for most families, the pet issue is not a one-time thing; we'll be revisiting it, I have no doubt.

Forever blowing bubbles

Cady Gray's dearest wish for this Christmas was to get a pet.  After much discussion about the responsibility of caring for a living thing, everyone agreed that a fish was a possibility, and fulfillment of this dream was left to Santa.

It was a longer wait than it should have been.  Santa brought the miniature aquarium on Christmas day, but that evening our furnace conked out, and our trip to the pet store had to be delayed until the house was at a temperature healthy for tropical fish.  Not until the following Thursday morning was our heat fixed -- a long time for a little girl to wait, especially since we couldn't tell her for sure when the big day would come.

Thursday afternoon, though, she went with her dad to the pet store and emerged with a beautiful scarlet betta.  She named it Goldeen, after the goldfish Pokemon.

The first few days were a little anxious, as they always are with a new arrival.  Would the water temperature and pH be well regulated?  Would the fish adjust?  Would it eat?  Stay healthy?  Goldeen, though, proved adaptable to his new home.  Never was a fish more loved by its caretaker.

And I admit that I enjoy watching him as much as Cady Gray does.  When I tuck her in and turn off her light, I linger in her room to see the show.  Goldeen's lighted tank suddenly throws back his reflection to him in the newly dark surroundings, and he responds to what he perceives as a rival by flaring out his long tail and feathery fins in a way that's gorgeous to behold.  I could stay there, mesmerized by the grace, color, and motion, for hours.  But I leave the sight to Cady Gray, nestled under her covers, eyes drawn to the glowing cube of water and its beautiful swimmer until she can keep them open no longer.

Catch and release

A month ago, Cady Gray brought home a minnow from her summer camp.  Minnie the minnow survived and thrived in her soda-bottle ecosystem.  But Cady Gray agreed that we had to take her to a stream and let her go before the school year started.



Today was the day -- the first somewhat bearable summer day, perfect for a walk over to the nature reserve. Cady Gray talked Minnie through the whole trip.



I had scouted out the perfect spot, where the creek passed under a footbridge. The water flows fast through a narrow channel, then spreads out in a shallow, still wide area where other minnows darted.



Cady Gray emptied her jar into the water, and we watched Minnie join her cousins.



We lingered in that idyllic spot, watching the silvery fish move to and fro in the water, feeling the breeze, listening to the birds.



As we walked back, Cady Gray found a feather. She put it in her jar as a sign, she said, that Minnie is where she belongs.



I suggested that Cady Gray write about Minnie. Here's what she just gave me:

Minny is a Pet that I loved and cared for. She swam, I watched. She swam, I fed. Today, I let her go. When I had my first pet, I didn,t want to let him go, but I had to. Now he,s a butterfly! So, I ♥ Minny!

Minnie the Moocher

Cady Gray's "Survive and Thrive" class at SLUFY made ecosystem aquariums out of cut-apart two-liter soda bottles and brought them home with minnow inside.  It's an ingenious setup.  The bottom section holds aquarium gravel and a water plant.  The top section has the bottle-top "funnel" set in upside down, with a cloth filter fastened to the spout, filled with dirt and grass seed and covered by another soda-bottle-bottom "dome."  As the grass grows, the roots poke through the filter and reach down to the aquarium's water, and moisture from the grass and soil, filled with nutrients, trickles down into the fish's habitat.

My girl has been reminding us frequently that she really wants a pet.  So Minnie the Minnow (so CG named the fish) arrived in a timely fashion.  And in the couple of weeks since SLUFY, the fish has thrived.  We have a thick mat of grass in the upper dome, long roots reaching down into the water, and a fish that darts around in a way expressly calculated to delight a five-year-old.

I looked up the life cycle of the fathead minnow, and found to my surprise that it can live up to fourteen months.  Uncertain that we want to try to maintain this soda-bottle contraption for a year, I talked to Cady Gray about releasing Minnie into a nearby stream before school starts.  She was receptive to the idea.  But of course I have mixed feelings.  She does really want a pet, and letting this one go just means we have to think about a more permanent situation.  (Maybe one of those bettas that lives in the roots of a phylodendron?)  And is my real motivation to avoid the death-of-your-pet discussion with Cady Gray by sending her minnow into the wild before we find it floating belly up?

Pet sounds

Archer brought home a book about record-setting animals for his reading homework tonight, and as usual, emoted enthusiastically about the longest cat, the smartest bird, and the oldest tortoise. The book was partly about these unusual animals, and partly about how to train and care for your own pet.

Growing up, my brothers and I had a succession of fish, dogs, ponies, and horses. I know I drove my parents crazy asking for animals at various times in my life.

So far the topic of pets has not come up with our children. It probably would never occur to Archer to ask for a pet; that would require a kind of imagination and initiative that isn't in his normal repertoire. But I'm just waiting for Cady Gray to broach the subject. Both of them are a little afraid of dogs (sometimes a lot afraid). But Cady Gray, at least, thinks puppies and kittens are cute and oohs and ahhs over them. I'm resigned to the inevitable question, at some point in the future: "Mom, can we have ... ?"

But I'm also glad it hasn't happened yet. Our housekeeping is always on the edge of collapse as it is; our routine is workable but often short on time. It's hard to imagine adding care for an animal into that mix. Of course, I'm not thinking about all the ways that I enjoyed the company of my dogs and horses over the years; I'm only thinking about the time it takes and the trouble it causes.

Let's hope that by the time Cady Gray gathers up her courage and pops the question, I'm ready to conceive of another way of life for the family. Otherwise the result might be the automatic "no" I'm feeling now.