Susan Senator

All during vacation week (last week) and up until last night, we had our first pet. We were taking care of our neighbor Isabel’s tadpole while she went away on vacation. The au pair, Isabel, and her little sister Bis brought over the guy in a fishtank-like box, decorated inside with plastic plants, fake gray rocks, a little cave, and a frog’s life tableau on the surrounding walls. There was also an empty soup can and an eyedropper. Little Bis informed me that this was to suck up his poo every so often from the bottom of the tank. Isabel showed me how much of a pellet to scrape off daily as his food. And that was that.

They didn’t tell me his name; they said he had many nicknames. So I felt free to name him myself. Ned and I quickly agreed on “Thadeus J. Pole.” Why the J? We did not know.

I was excited about the pet-for-a-week thing because I figured the boys would be into it. They were not. I showed each one of them the cute little things Thadeus did, like if you poked inside the cave with the eyedropper, he would come jumping out. Or sometimes he would hide behind some of the fake grass and the only way I would find him was by suddenly turning on the light.

I had had little pets growing up. Every pet Laura had, I had, too. Her little turtle named Fivvy, for her fifth birthday (Five-y), and my little one named Yokky (my mom called me Suki yaki). When they died, we got others. Eventually we got gerbils instead. Mine were Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. Laura’s were Crackle and Crunch.

Gerbils; what can you say? They eat their young. That was the most impressive thing about them. They seemed to have their babies on every holiday and then we would watch in horror and delighted disgust as they ingested the weakest ones.

I had a kitten just before Nat was born. She was high-strung and tried to bite baby Nat in the head. We had to get rid of her.

So I was eager to see how I’d do with a tadpole. During the week he lost his tail and grew fat! My neighbor could not believe the change when she got back! As I handed over the sloshing tank with a mixture of pride and grief, I realized that I really wanted a pet of my own.

A cat? No, by now I am allergic. A dog? I do have an allergy to dogs and they are too much like a real person, too much responsibility, requiring the best pet insurance company assistance? A tadpole? Too boring, I must confess. A turtle? They carry Salmonella. A gerbil? What?! Are you nuts? And expose Ben to that kind of violence? I don’t want to give him ideas! And Max would be saddened beyond repair by the whole baby-eating thing.

Then, when I was taking out the trash two days ago, I looked up and saw a big fat brown rabbit, five feet away by the shed door. He just sat there boldly chewing. He knew he didn’t have to be afraid of me! So adorable, so innocent, and yet somehow wild and tough! And it came to me: A rabbit for a pet!

I ran in to tell Ned. He agreed right away. So now we are researching it on this helpful review and deciding. A rabbit seems perfect: they can be litter-trained, they stay in a cage except a little bit of running around, and they don’t want a lot of handling (which is good because the boys would probably ignore him for the most part, and if he were a dog, he would be bereft).

The biggest question is: where would he run around and how do we keep him from chewing all of our electrical cords?