What Goes Around

“I’m supposed to write a story about an unusual pet. Any ideas? I just don’t have the creative imagination you have. Or it seems that way to me. But then maybe, it’s just because you are old. If you can think of something, anything, please help me.”

I would suggest, should I be asked, that the statement would be uttered by the majority of people given the identical assignment. The majority of people seem to have little, to no belief in their own ability to bring imagination to life. I’m not talking about the usual means, animation, books, campfire stories. I’m talking about the ability to shed our inability to be hampered by reality.

We are trained from our youngest ages to not pay attention to the ghost in the closet or the monster under the bed. A bat dropping from the sky and becoming entangled in your hair, that was always a favorite of mine. Being lost in the House of Mirrors and all your reflections are the embodiment of your evil twin, but then you remember that was a dream you had after eating all the cookie dough you weren’t supposed to touch. It is because of this constant bombardment when we are children that we are unable to unshackle ourselves from the fear instilled in us, and it prevents our imaginations from entering into the unadulterated realm of fantasy.

It wasn’t until I read a book by Joshua Tisdale, “Getting Out of Your Own Way, that I realized, I too, had been limiting my potential as a fully functioning purveyor of untethered thought. 

I began to adjust my outlook on a future by looking to the past. What is it I’ve denied myself because of the fear of what it might have entailed. I realized one of the things I had always wanted, and yet for reasons, primarily having to do with my parents and rules, was a dog. Not just any dog, but a super dog, like lassie or Deputy Dog.

I was warned of the usual negative aspects of pet ownership; taking responsibility for a pet meant, feeding, care, cleanup, exercise. All things I was sure I was capable of doing, especially because I knew I’d be under the watchful eyes of my parents, who are for all practical purposes, clairvoyant. They would know, and then I would know they knew, and it would spiral into one of those scenarios, where no one loses but me. 

The list of negatives grew, as my insistence became more adamant. I finally did as so many do; I tentatively dropped the desire to have a pet. “Find something else to befriend,” they suggested. I continued to harbor my wish to have a companion to share life with. One that did not require all the gratuitous preening that human companions require. There is something about a pet that allows a young person, who is normally not comfortable engaging in affectionate jousting with adults, to learn the expectations of proximity, without the rejection or disappointment.

I knew kids who had pet rocks. The concept made no sense to me; might as well have a pet fire hydrant, at least it has a purpose. No I needed something that I could talk to, and even if it didn’t understand, I could pretend it did. That requires a form of life. I’ve never been able to become close to anything inanimate. I know people claim they love their, sweaters, bowling balls, golf clubs, even shoes, but that is not really love, or even affection. It is I believe, a sense of self-gratification.  Taking credit for promoting your choices, seems to me the height of egotism.   

Imaginary friends, also never appealed to me. I find their inability to share basic acceptance or rejections of natural phenomenon, cold, heat, rain, snow, even noise, to be a failure to engage in an emotional attachment, necessary in friendships.

A dog to me was a living entity who could learn to enjoy the things I enjoyed. Hiking, swimming, or doing nothing at all, just being with something that keeps the boredom away. Like leaving the TV on, even when you aren’t watching it. It’s a sound in the room making it seem less lonely. A pet is a friend you can share secrets with, plot your next storming of the bastille, or forgive you, when you feel no one else will.

I now find myself in a similar situation, but on the opposite side of the argument.  I have a daughter who wants a pet. She doesn’t care what type of pet, as long as it’s a dog. I find myself once having been a member of a debate team, knowing tricks of the trade, so to speak. Its techniques have proven to be of great benefit over the years, despite their lack of use. I must admit I was never very good at debate. One should probably never go into a debate, with an open mind.

I am in a position now where I have to argue against the very thing that I advocated for many years ago. I am encouraged by the fact that the arguments tenants have not changed. Yes, she would feed her dog, take it for walks, make sure it had water. She says she will, “Simply die, if I can’t have a dog,” an unfair familial claim when attempting a relatively factual exchange of ideas.

I felt the latest amendment to the argument was a bit over the top, and certainly melodramatic at its core, but she did make her argument on sound fundamental principles, as had I years previously, but her argument was infused with more passion, than I could have conjured from my basic repertoire of needy arguments. So, I am left with the only choice that remains. I can either agree to fulfil her wish and keep her from dying, or I can, as my parents chose to do, explain a position based on the reality of adolescence; the implications embedded in responsibility, and the dichotomy that arises between authority and submissiveness during parent-offspring discussions.   

In an attempt to revert back to the days when everything, as far as pets were concerned, was so obvious, and yet I was apparently the only one that could see that.; I interjected my adolescent remembrance for her of my dog obsession, but to no avail.

Other kids I had hung out with had dogs, cats. Those that were disadvantaged in our eyes, were those that were reduced to talking to their parakeet or attempting to gain the attention of their gold fish by tapping on the bowl, and then pretending they were happy to be recognized by them.

To be honest, I didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t, that I felt I was betraying my past principles. I petitioned for a pet to become part of my life and help me learn the intricacies of affection and friendship; nothing to be ashamed of.

I also however, know my daughter. She has a tendency to put all her, can't live without essentials in one basket, and then forget them under her bed until the entire house begins to smell like the dumpster behind the “All You Can Eat Emporium," teary eyes and all.

I wanted, needed to be fair, but I also needed her to recognize the amount of investment in time and energy a pet required. I had no particular interest, as time has passed, in walking her dog, or following it around with a plastic bag on my hand as if it were about to lay a golden egg.

I needed to understand her position, or at least give the impression I was trying to. I decided to put together a list I could use, as if I was in court, attempting to persuade her by allowing her to see what she would be giving up in the way of freedom, by taking on the sole responsibility for another living thing.

She needed to state her case in her own words, using her own suppositions as to the benefits this pet would provide her emotionally, as well as physically, and present them in a convincing way to the judge; me. 

I of course will be ready with a rebuttal. “You want a pet, so you can train it to do what you ask of it. You will teach it to be obedient, trust worthy, dependable, and always be honest, as it does not have the option of lying as you believe what ever it wishes you to. Is that what you propose?”

She will of course follow my expose’ of predictable responses one makes about pets. She may dispute one or all, but they will have made her consider the nature of the connection between a person and the animal they wish to endow with their affection, and at what price.

I see her sitting across the table from me, eliciting a reasoned response she has deliberately constructed, anticipating my questions, and having formulated her devious but faulty answers.

The entire ordeal began to give me a headache. Perhaps I should abandon the parental instinct that relies on maturity and responsibility, and accept the fact, that if she does not attempt to practice what I preach, she will not learn. And in fifteen, twenty years, she will possibly be in a similar position and her response will be predicated on my response now.

I have decided. One thing I have learned over the years, is that most often, answering a question with a question, has several advantages. It changes the subject, while imparting the notion you are considering what is best for, not only your subject, but her family. I will ask her a question implying there may be an alternative to our conundrum.

“Given the fact that you want a companion that you can train with treats, that will respond to all your requests affirmatively, and affectionately, unless it has something more important to attend to, a living entity that will act like it loves you unless it doesn’t feel like it. Remember, you will do all the work, provide the initiative and accessories, and all it has to do in return, is look at you questioningly when chastised for disobedience, as if it was probably your fault anyway! For God’s sake, wouldn’t you really rather have a politician?”