Pet Losses

The Doughty family pet history has been a little less than perfect. As a single woman, living alone, I adopted a kitten that my sister's cat had birthed. I named him Frolic and he became quite my baby. I think I may have written about him in the past.

Frolic was extremely jealous of Don when we were courting and would walk along the back of the sofa and try and force Don away from me by throwing his entire body between us. But he loved our children and was just as much a part of our family as each human member.

A couple of years ago, we had to put Frolic to sleep. He was struggling with incontinence and severe arthritis (the first probably a result of the second) and was humiliated by his own lack of control. There were other problems, as well, and Don and I felt it was the right time. We buried Frolic in the backyard under a tree where he'll always be close to us.

The children struggled with Frolic's death. Months later, they would still cry occasionally and ask me to tell them stories about our much-loved pet. Being concerned about the impact on their emotional health, Don and I had a long talk about pets and agreed that I would look into purchasing a guinea pig for the short term with the long-term solution being a dog. But we needed to wait at least 2 years before acquiring a dog due to the ages of our children and the amount of attention required from me to perform daily duties.

I researched cost as well as lifespan of guinea pigs. I talked with the Vet about what kind of care one would need. I read a book about care of guinea pigs. We even had the children allergy tested and discussed this possible pet with their allergist. In the end, we decided we would purchase one once we returned from a 2-week vacation to California to attend my nephew's wedding.

The week after our return, Don got sick with a stomach bug and needed some quiet in the house. In an effort to give him some peace, I took the boys shopping. We strolled through the aisles of the store and then, at the boy's request, hit the Pet Store. We headed straight for the guinea pig section. We stood cooing over them and then asked to hold one. The sales person let each of the boys hold a little female and then I held her.

"Do you have a guinea pig?" she asked.

"No," I responded, "but we've decided we're going to get one. Just not today, but soon."

"Well, if you're interest," she said, "we have one that was abandoned in front of the store and needs a good home. She comes with her cage and an igloo house, an exercise ball, a water bottle and food dish, Vitamin C drops and some food and hay."

"How much would you charge for all that?" I asked, quickly calculating in my head and arriving at a value of over $200.

"She's free to a good home. We can't charge for her. She's not ours. We just want to find a family that will love her to adopt her."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was too good to be true. We asked to see her and instantly fell in love. There was a piece of paper taped to her cage that said, "Freda". I rolled my eyes. This was no Freda. She was far too regal for such a common name.

As we were driving home with our new baby, the name "Antoinette" hit me. Our guniea pig had a tuft of hair on the top of her head that looked very much like a pompador. The children scoffed at the name until I looked up Marie Antoinette in the Encyclopedia and showed them a picture. They laughingly agreed that what we had living with us now was certainly an Antoinette.

We loved our Antoinette, though Deanna and I both developed allergies to her. I would hold her anyway and scrub my arms afterwards, willing to suffer the sneezing fit to bestow affection on the littlest Doughty. Last June, we moved into a friend's cottage on their property for a two-week "in town" vacation. Antoinette moved in with Grandma and Grandpa, which she had done before but, before the two weeks were out, she died. We believe it was from a broken heart. She just missed us too much. She lost her will to live without her babies talking to her every day. We buried her in the backyard next to Frolic.

The children were grief-stricken. Don decided he had to do something, quick, but we couldn't figure out quite what. Then, on the 4th of July, we were at a picnic and Dane came home with a fish in a bag. The next morning, Don hit Wal-Mart around 5:00 a.m. and came home with all the necessary fish items.

Thus began a very long, painful attempt to have fish. Don bought a couple more so each of the children would have one. They promptly died. He went back to the store and brought home another one for each of the children as well as one for him. They all died. Next, I tried. They died. We were getting tired of returning little dead fish bodies in the "Product Guaranteed" bag to Wal-Mart. I tried a Pet Store. They died faster. After about 20 fish, all told, Don and I had another heart-to-heart.

"I don't think it's healthy for the children to become calloused to death," I explained. But what choice did they have, under the circumstances. Don agreed and we washed out the fishbowl for the last time. We have been a pet-less family ever since, waiting for the day we can adopt a puppy.

Two nights ago, the children finished their homework, played outside, and got all their chores done in record time. They asked if I would rent a movie for them to watch if they bathed before dinner. I agreed. As soon as Don walked through the door from work, I shot out of the house and to the video store. I picked up "Where the Red Fern Grows" and brought it home to watch with the children.

We got 2/3 of the way through before bedtime. I promised the children that they could see the rest of it after school of before bed the next day, yesterday. When I picked them up at school, Deanna announced that she had very little homework and, once it was completed, I turned the movie back on.

I sat with them while they watched the last of it. After the second dog dies, the young boy in the movie asks his mother, "Do you think there's a Heaven for animals?" His mother responds, "I'm sure there is, Billy, I'm sure there is."

Deanna, my tender-hearted girl who was afraid to watch the movie because she knew it would be sad, looked over at me with twinkling eyes.

"When we get there, there's gonna be a lot of fish." She grinned.

At least now, she can talk about it without crying. However, I noticed she didn't mention Antoinette or Frolic. Maybe she's not completely over all her pet losses just yet.