Low Commitment.

Having been pet-less for about half a year following the death of my solitary goldfish, DD and I recently pondered what sort of pet to get... if any. I visited the SPCA adoption center and found a wonderful cat that I really liked... but they were kicking people out because it was close to closing time and I was under too much pressure to decide. Plus, they had a $20 adoption special that weekend only, and after I finally decided it would have been $80 to adopt her. Plus, you know, she has claws and glands and a butt, I have a white sofa, which, by the way is not particularly comfortable, and oh, that fabric that's supposedly treated, probably with some kind of horrible chemical, to release stains easily? It doesn't release red wine. Not that I'd expect it to.

I still like cats, so I became enamored of these miniature Persians that people are breeding nowadays. They're beautiful, and so, so tiny! They're very expensive, too, like a few thousand dollars. Which is okay when you're talking about car repairs or needing a new computer but seems kind of a bit rich for my blood, considering I'm unfortunately the type of person who lets her bank account get down into the double digits plenty often. So I started thinking along the SPCA lines again, when my little sister, age 6, announced to me that she's deathly allergic to cats, although she likes them and has a few cat stuffed animals.
Although I don't see her very often, she does come over and I want her to be able to come over and hang out, and even spend the night, once she gets a little older and her parents release their death grip of overprotectiveness on her. (I mean, really. I'm thirty-five, not fifteen... I drive a safe four-door sedan, I have a dull 9-5:30 job at a nice non-profit. I don't quite get why we only get to have supervised visits... sometimes I think my father is in a time warp and to him, I'm still a 16 year old who ditched school, snuck around, wrecked a car and spilled red nail polish all over the carpet in my bedroom and hid it till I went to college by rearranging my room.)

The other week I walked into the post office by my work to be greeted by two of the sweetest little puppy heads you ever saw peeking out of a doggie carrier. I dropped to the floor, stunned by their adorable-ness. In some kind of crazed moment, I even asked their owner for breeder information. Apparently these are champion chihuahuas, and the proud new owner flew all the way to Michigan to get them and bring them back to California. After about half an hour of petting these little puppies while their owner taped up some packages she was sending out, I returned to work, happily announcing to my coworkers that I fell in love with chihuahuas and planned to get one.

After a few hours, rationality set in. For one thing, I've never had a dog and don't know the first thing about them, nor has DD ever owned a dog. For another, we rent, and we're technically not supposed to own a dog (though plenty of neighbors do, because the management used to allow dogs, and they changed the rule but had to grandfather in anyone who already had a dog). Finally, I realized I don't really want a dog. They have to go to the bathroom and you have to take them out before the sun rises and stand there and shiver while they do their business, and then you have to pick their business up while it's still fresh and steaming.

So, I'm the proud owner of an adorable hamster, which DD purchased for me yesterday! Hamsters are great. They require only about $100 for their whole set up-- nice cage, ASPCA-approved exercise Wodent Wheel, food, and bedding. You clean their cage once a week and play with them daily (but if you don't play with them daily, they don't care. In fact, they're so indifferent that I don't think it matters to them at all if you skip a day). They're fun to watch. They live about 2.5 years. My little guy is about 5 weeks old... so we should have plenty of time together. Photos to follow!