The reason for my 'NO PET' policy

(Original Post: February 26, 2006 - Sunday)

When My friend and I made the decision to live together, there was one stip. No pets. She had a dog. Granted, he was a cute dog, but no matter how cute he was, he had to go. So he did. She gave him to a co-worker and little Gizmo lived happily ever after. Somewhere else.
My friend has two cats. Every time I come to visit they find it necessary to tug at my hair, breathe in my face, paw at my feet, purr in my ear. I push them away without a second thought. ALWAYS.
Last night there was a stray dog outside of My friend's casa. It was a good looking Boxer. Sure, the dog was friendly. Sure, he looked like a house dog. Sure, he had sad little puppy eyes and was crying outside the door, but when she asked me what we should do, I sure did say, shut the door and he will eventually just go away. This is not because I'm a cold bitch. Although sometimes that can be argued. It is because of a traumatic childhood. Let me explain.
The first pet I ever had was a hamster. My brother got a rat. I thought it would be a good idea for them to be friends so I put them to sleep in the same cage. I woke up to a bloody rat and a carcass.
The next pet I had was a tiny little kitten. Totally adorable. She loved to cuddle up with me at night. One night she cuddled up to far and when i woke up she was stiff as a board. Rigor mortis had already set in.
My mother felt terrible. She bought me another kitten. My mom accidentally backed a car over him. No worries, he seemed to be okay, although he did continue to paw at his eye for a few days. Well, one day I awoke to find him dead in the bathroom with his eyeball hanging out. He must have pawed it out of his head.
The family decided to get a Chinese Shar-Pei. She was with us for awhile. She gave birth to seven puppies. We kept them all in the garage with some old furniture. Her babies got under the couch cushions to stay warm. She sat on top of the cushions oblivious I guess. She smothered all seven pups. We buried them in the back yard, but she continued to dig them up. Every few days we have to rebury them. Traumatic.
I've had only one other pet in my life. A little dog named Vern. Every time he shit it would end up all over his fur. So I cut all the hair around his ass. But he would still sit in it. And bath time every single night was getting to be too much. One day my best friend accidentally hit him with a car while backing out of the drive. To this day Christy says he committed suicide because he was tired of having shit all over his ass.
You can see my apprehension when it came time to give birth.