I had a bunch of different pets, and I've found I'm successful with only one kind: hamsters.
My very first pet that I bought with my own money (ok, I swam for them, but hey) was a Russian dwarf hamster. I named her Frisky. I didn't know she was a she until later. She was your typical grey hamster, and she loved grape nuts. She'd stuff her little cheek pouches to the brim with those grape nuts, then I thought it was hilarious to sometimes press on her little cheek pouch, and she'd spit it all out. It's amazing how much stuff would fit in her mouth! Frisky had a friend, I don't know if I ever gave him a name since Megan thought the hammies were cute, so she got one too. He was creepy, white with red eyes.
He and Frisky got busy and had lots of little pink jelly beans. Babies. They looked like little fingers. Quite ugly, actually. I think I had hamsters for about 6 years. Babies, babies, babies. The only two hamsters I really remember since the original pair was "runt." Runt was the runt of the first litter of babies. I gave him to my cousin, Sarah, who didn't want him anymore after a while. When I got him back, he was HUGE. He was a fat one. The other hamster I remember was Fang. His teeth didn't line up like hamster teeth should, so his teeth never stayed ground to a decent length. His bottom fangs would grow so long, they'd be almost cutting into his eye. I remember Mom and Dad having a system of holding him and clipping his teeth with toenail cutters. He never got to be a normal sized hamster. I'm sure he had problems with eating, thus always being a bit scrawny.
See? I know a lot about hamsters. I should just stick to those.
My second type of pet was a dove. My friend Lauren had a dove, and it made the most charming coo-ing sounds, not annoying and screechy like Lindsey's parakeets. I couldn't stand having it in my room because it was ALWAYS watching me with a beady eye. I remember he would get out of his cage, and when you tried to catch him and he got away from you, after landing somewhere else, he would let out a chortling sound. Like he was laughing at you.
Well, one day he was out of his cage, the room door was open, and the back door (to the great outside) was also open. Bye bye birdie.
When I was 16 and could drive, I really wanted a pet chinchilla. But they were out of my price range, so I settled for a little bunny instead. It was so stinkin' cute! And stinky. It got to the point that we all decided that little bunny should stay in a cage outside. One morning, I decided to go check on Thumper, only to see that Dax (a German Shepard dog) was hungry and decided to eat Thumper. The most heart-wrenching part was realizing that I was literally 30 seconds too late. If I had gone out 30 seconds earlier, Bunny would still be in his cage, and not having his bones crunched by Dax.
Enter cute Scooter. Last December, I decided I really wanted a dog. Or roommates. Something. So I happened to swing by PetSmart, where a really cool organization called Rescue Rovers was holding an adoption event. He was there, cowering in a cage, not happy with all the commotion. All the other dogs were yapping, jumping, doing everything to get my attention, but he was simply watching me with big yellow-ish eyes. I decided to take him home.
He had a hard time adjusting. He's a timid dog, probably didn't have the best life in New Mexico. Or at least, he had a good life roaming the streets until he was caught. He's a great walker, and loves the outdoors. After realizing that I'm not the ideal owner for him, I decided to take him back. But Mom said "but he's such a nice dog! Let me keep him for a while!" So he moved to Mom and Dad's. He loved going on walks with them. I felt bad, because I'd only visit on the weekends, but I was still his favorite. Poor Mom, she never felt that was quite fair.
As Scooter got more comfortable with his surroundings, he started to get more confident. And some...undesirable behaviors emerged. Namely, biting. He bit a neighbor walking down the street. He bit my dad's friend, and actually broke skin. He nipped at children running around the yard. And this always happened unpredictably. The situation had to be perfect, and he would randomly bite 1 out of 20 times. Not easy to train.
Well, last Sunday, he did his last bite. He bit Ricky pretty good. With little kids often over, we decided that Scooter needed a different home, one where he won't bite little children or make my stress level hit "high"whenever there were a lot of people around.
I took him back to Rescue Rovers (who were very nice and understanding about the whole thing, btw). The foster who took him in knows dogs very well, and so far, Scooter has been adjusting really well, getting along with the other dogs, and enjoys swimming in the doggy pool. (I think it's so cool they have a doggy pool.) I will miss him, but I know he's in a much better situation with someone who knows what he's doing.
I already miss him. So, I'll stick to hamsters. They don't selfishly take a little piece of my heart.
