Life Without Pets: Why Our Home is Animal Free
In the throes of singledom I met an interesting guy online. He’d stipulated that he was unwilling to share his life with animals. In fact I’m pretty sure that his dating profile was ‘No Pets’. ‘Are you absolutely certain you wouldn’t have a relationship with someone with who had a cat or dog?’ I asked him. He thought for a moment. ‘Maybe if I really liked her she might have an ageing sick moggie.’ he said.
By the way it didn’t go beyond a first date with us. Even though we had a lovely evening and both acknowledged that we’d could have been good friends in a different life that wasn’t on the cards. Neither of us were in the market for extending our social circle. My son Louis was about fourteen or fifteen at the time. I’m not sure this guy would have been that keen on having a teenage boy around either.
Pets in The Past
A few animals shared our childhood home with us from time to time. There was a couple of budgies called Joey (of course), Radar the guinea pig, Horace the gerbil and Fluff my sister’s cute black and white rabbit. I seemed to recall that my parents were left to tend them even though my siblings and I had promised faithfully we would.
However in all my adult life I haven’t had a pet and don’t intend to. While I wouldn’t have ruled out having a relationship with a pet owner I was glad when I met Paul that a furry friend wasn’t part of the package. According to PDSA statistics there’s about a 50:50 chance that he would have had one.
That doesn’t mean that I don’t like animals. Here I must mention Mayhem, the neighbour’s moggie who saw me through my occupational therapy studies. He visited daily and used to curl up with me when I had my afternoon siestas. Everything changed the day that I brought my baby home from hospital. Mayhem walked into the conservatory, took one disdainful look at the carrycot and never returned!
Now I have some especially good doggie mates. For example this is Rufus who often accompanies me to my allotment when his dad is helping my partner Paul do up our house. In future he might come to stay when his owners go on holiday. There’s Baxter, an ageing Staffy who I’ve babysat for and Basil a scruffy grey lurcher who comes to the pub with us. And I’m very fond of Lola and Sam, a couple of Labradors who live a few doors down the road. In fact Sam loves me so much that his owner refers to me as his girlfriend.
Why We Don’t Share Our Home with Animals
There’s a number of reasons why we’re not pet owners. The biggest is we don’t want the responsibility. The humans in my house are enough trouble. Last year we endured some pester power from my son Louis and his girlfriend. One of the neighbour’s cockerpoos had given birth to the cutest puppies on the planet and they’d fallen in love with a little red haired chap. I stood firm as I’d seen too many friends unwittingly become full-time carers for their children’s discarded pets. Sam, that Labrador, is a case in point.
Of course there’s the cost too. Even those rescue dogs don’t come for free. I’m fully aware that there’s bills for food, worming and grooming not to mention the pet insurance that seems to run out when an animal is elderly and needs it most. I’ve seen the horrendous vet’s bills that my friends have had to pay.
Travelling abroad is just that little bit trickier too. The parents of Basil have to book way in advance to get a pet cabin on the ferry when they travel to their holiday home in Spain whereas we can pretty much rock up. And I’m not sure that I’d like to leave a family member behind in a kennel or with a friend if we ventured further afield. I’ve seen how upset my mate Baxter gets when he sees a suitcase.
I had a very odd conversation with someone once who accused me of being selfish because I didn’t have a pet but I didn’t share their view. Ir seems that I love animals enough to realise that the responsibility of ownership isn’t for me. I love my doggie companions but they’re like grandchildren. I can mostly give them back to their parents at the end of the day.
Disclaimer
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