Hamsters & Bunnies (or Rabbits) & Dogs, OH MY!

We weren’t allowed to have a dog when I was a kid. More accurately, I don’t think we were allowed to have any pets when I was a kid, but we must’ve found a loophole because we had a rabbit, or a bunny (what’s the fucking difference there? Seriously, does anyone know? Is there a difference, don’t even get me started on hare), when I was fairly little. To be even more accurate (big on accuracy today apparently) my youngest older sister had a bunny, or a rabbit (ok, you get it…). Oh, I just remembered that at one point we also had a hamster, it’s name was Sam and, again in the spirit of accuracy, I think he might’ve belonged to my oldest older sister, and I think I hated it. Well, I think it bit me, or bit my sister, or bit someone, or bit everyone, and as a result I decided that I was terrified of it, and hated it. To be fair, and accurate, I was terrified of most things, but Sam took on a different type of terror because, and I’m literally just thinking back on this and dissecting it now (my feelings, not the hamster, the hamster is long ago fucking dead, thank God, and while I think dissecting things is a fantastic way to learn it’s not really for me), I realized that this little living creature had, to some extent anyhow, it’s own free will. What I mean is, if it didn’t want to be held, or if it didn’t want to be pet, or if it didn’t want to run around it’s little spinning wheel thingy then it would just fucking bite you. That, was terrifying. So reflecting back on all of this maybe that whole “we weren’t allowed to have a pet” thing was not true, seeing as how I just rattled off a couple of pets that we had, if rodents count that is and I’m assuming they do. So I think it must’ve been, for sure, we were not allowed to have a dog.

As a side, and to show I’m not a total monster, I was recently rummaging through our family photo albums to see if I could locate a picture of Sam to include in this entry. Upon informing my second oldest older sister (I really just have to start using their names) that this was my quest when she asked what I was up to she responded, “Oh, I fucking hated that thing. It would always bite you and it kept me up at night chewing and making noises.” My oldest older sister and second oldest older sister shared a room growing up and Sam lived with them. I couldn’t find a picture of Sam, probably because everyone hated him, but here’s a picture of a hamster so you can get the idea. Also, this one seems way cuter than the satan devil that was Sam, but also it still looks oddly evil right?

The reason we weren’t allowed to have a dog is because my Dad said we couldn’t have a dog. Simple and to the point I suppose and I do recall this being a hardened rule (yeah, I know that we’ve proven that maybe my memory from when I was three years old isn’t super reliable in one of the prior paragraphs but I’m highly confident in this one). To some extent it makes my father appear to be some sort of monster that wouldn’t allow his gaggle of children to have a dog and to be honest I’m not sure why this was a rule, maybe he didn’t like dogs, maybe he was allergic, maybe he was previously attacked by a dog, I don’t know but I do recall some portions of these types of “issues” being part of the myth, but let’s face it, parents will lie to kids about anything and everything just to obtain their desired outcome. Having kids of my own now the rule of no dogs allowed seems less monstrous, though, to be fair, my family does have a dog, but also, again in fairness, I wouldn’t say I was thrilled with the idea of us getting the dog, and I love dogs.

As I stated, we had a bunny rabbit (see what I did there), and in retrospect I think my sister was really using the bunny rabbit, it’s name was Candy so I’m just going to go with it by name now, to lay the foundation for her future plans. She tested the waters with Candy (not the literal waters, like we didn’t cook the bunny or anything, though I hear they taste like chicken, but having had Candy as a pet I can’t bring myself to eat rabbit, or bunny, and that’s saying something because I’ve actually eaten a lot of weird shit) in a way I don’t think I was entirely aware of until later, or maybe until just right now. To keep the narrative on Candy for a minute though, giving her proper spotlight, I have to admit that I was also slightly scared of her as well (told you). She was one of those white bunnies with the red eyes that actually do look kind of sinister when you dwell on it, that and I think they wrote a horror story about how bunnies like that killed people or something, but that wasn’t a driving factor in my fear. Similar to Sam I think it was that free will thing, and the fact that Candy was just kind of a bitch at times. Sometimes she would be awesome and cuddly and soft and you would pet her head right between her eyes and then other times she would just bite your ass. I guess these rodent type pets aren’t that different from the personality of humans, or at least they aren’t that different from my personality in that at any moment I can slip into a mood where I’m just pissed off. I probably would’ve understood Sam and Candy so much better now if they weren’t both dead and buried in the backyard of my childhood home.

Ah sweet Candy. That skinny kid’s left hand is trying to control that free will. He’s gonna get bit for sure.

My sister built on the established momentum of successfully having these rodent pets and parlayed that into finally landing the big kahuna, a dog. She did this at a time when I think she had some increased independence, and a boyfriend that had a house and dogs. In fact, I think the dog may have been a gift from that boyfriend, not sure if I have that right and also, that may have been a farce that made getting and keeping the dog less painful when presented to the parents, let’s face it kids will lie to their parents about almost anything and everything just to obtain their desired outcome. So the firework moment that came to mind and got me thinking of all of this was the first time my father came home after said dog was now a member of the family (to note Dad would be gone for stretches of time and I’m not entirely certain of the associated details other than he was working or on a work trip or something like that, at least that’s what my brain recollects). I remember being in our living room, which is part of a split level and just below the kitchen, and looking up at my sister sitting stoically at our kitchen table with, I think but it’s hazy, the dog in her lap and my Dad there in the kitchen behind her, silent and acting like everything was normal. By the way the dog’s name was Jazz and I’m fairly certain I was the one that named her, it was Jazz which was short for Jasmine, but I would end up giving her tons of other nicknames during her existence, including my favorite, which was Stimpy.

I also think I named the rabbit bunny Candy, but I realize that this just might be a well played hand by my family in convincing me that I chose the name so as not to be a brat about it, especially considering some of my name ideas for the bunny were awful things that only a small child would come up with, such as Poopy Butt or Snowball or Whitey or Red Eyes or Hoppy, you know, all of the originals. Our current dog is named Harley Quinn, and we told the kids she came with that name because we didn’t want to have a major fight about the naming of the dog and we also didn’t want a dog named M&Ms KitKat, you see parents will lie to their kids about almost anything…well you get it by now. I thought Harley Quinn was a great name, and, admittedly, it was my wife that came up with it, I’m still pissed my bid for Home Wrecker was not better received.

So I think it’s become clear to me why this particular firework moment sticks in my mind and that’s because, as I recall, there was a fair amount of tension in the air and I’m sure there is something about the adrenaline chemicals flowing that made it stick. Maybe it was just me though as I was thinking, “Oh shit, the father and the dog are both here”, because I don’t really recall it leading to any sort of blow out, in fact I think that’s another reason it sticks. I just remember my sister sternly “holding her guns” and looking dead straight ahead into the living room and the tv and my father standing behind her doing the same thing and acting as if the dog didn’t exist and it was in that moment that I found my sister to be a new entity, or really cool, or independent, or strong, or standing up for herself, or standing up for all of us, or all of those things. I saw her in a new found light and I think I was encouraged by it and recall it as somehow being a somewhat monumental moment informing me that my life wouldn’t always be dictated by others. I don’t know the best way to explain it, but I thought it was, quite simply, cool.