My children grew up in Chicago, and I tried to give them many, many opportunities to explore the city and its environs. They lived in urban neighborhoods of streets and blocks and two-flats; they played sports in Welles Park, two blocks from home; they walked to our parish school, one block away. They became adroit at taking the CTA; they learned to ice skate; and Wrigley Field was a second home. I feel completely confident that any one of them could navigate safely in any place they might live. We haunted the museums. Each child plays at least one musical instrument and each has a good singing voice. Our parishes were blessed with good pastors and talented liturgical musicians, so the religious foundations grew strong, too. All three of my children are excellent travellers and we have many travel experiences that we would love to share with anyone who will listen. I tried to prepare them for their adult lives in as many ways as I could imagine.
But I failed in one area.
We never had pets.
Now my daughter has adopted an adorable little terrier mix (who looks rather like Toto) and has plunged into the world of pet ownership with no previous experience. Being a resourceful woman, she checked out a stack of books from the library, seeks advice and help from family and friends, and Googles whatever else she needs. I know she's going to love having the little fellow around. Yet when she talks about some of the tricky bits of adjusting to this new creature in her house, I don't have any good, practical advice to give. Nothing. She laughs and teases me that I forgot about the fact she and her brothers might own pets one day. I did.
Here's the reason.
As a child, I had some serious allergies that triggered asthma attacks. Dogs and cats could not live in our house. When we visited my Aunt Rachel, whose dog and cat both lived inside, we could stay until my eyes began to water and then I had to go. (In the summer, of course, I just played outside with my cousins and siblings and had no problems.) My husband and I had friends in Malden, Massachusetts who owned two fine, furry cats, and I couldn't even get past the entry hall to their apartment if the cats weren't locked up in another room. I avoided cats and dogs in close spaces. I never considered having an indoor pet once we started our family.
Yet my allergies didn't fully blossom until I was around 8, and my parents kept a dog from the time I was around 6. The first was a beautiful, small, white puppy we chose ourselves and named Buck. I can remember bringing him home when he was just old enough to leave his mother, and I remember my mother making him a little nest in our front vestibule. She wrapped up an alarm clock so he could have a comforting, rhythmic beat while he slept. I remember house training him, and how he would play with us. Then one day I came home from school and found my sister and brother inconsolable. A neighbor had left our gate open and Buck had run out into the road and been hit by a car. The driver couldn't stop in time and was so sad. My father came home from his job and took little Buck away to the vet (to be cremated, as I now understand). We shed many tears that day.
Before too much longer, our neighbors' dog had puppies, and they gave us a fine little fellow whom we named King. He proved to be a faithful and lively member of the family. My parents had a new house built around that time and we moved out to Churchland, where there was an acre of space in which to roam. By then, my allergies were pronounced and King wouldn't be allowed to live inside. My father built him an excellent doghouse in our back yard. It still stands, under an enormous pin oak with branches that shelter the house from the heat and the weather. In the first years, King just ran free. We had some adventures with him in those days. He would follow us to school or to the grocery store. Once he even followed our school bus around the neighborhood and hopped on at a different stop. King was great. But as the neighborhood grew denser, we had to keep him chained up. I know this makes many folks very angry nowadays. But King was perfectly happy and we were with him all the time. I grew up in Tidewater Virginia, so the weather generally wasn't a problem. If things were bad, we brought him inside to our family room. We cared for King very lovingly. But he lived outside. I loved him at a distance.
My natural proclivities, therefore, are to keep animals at arm's length. If one is allergic to an animal that triggers an asthma attack, one quickly learns that this animal needs to be avoided. I will pet your dog but not your cat, and I will sit as far away from them in your house as possible. I will cheerfully play with them outside! But I don't 'click' with dogs and cats. And I really don't know the first thing about training and living with a dog!
Fortunately for my daughter and sons, my sister and brother are pet lovers and owners par excellence. They have dogs living in their houses (no cats) and they have raised dogs from puppyhood. So even if I can't provide the personal expertise to help my daughter with her puppy, she has the next best thing: a loving aunt and uncle who can help her every step of the way. Another reason to be thankful for families!
And I will cheerfully take the little doggie for a walk.
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