It’s Not A Dog
Okay … here’s a riddle.
What has four legs
Will chase a ball (really)
Is totally down to chill
And has five fingers
While you’re figuring that out, here’s our story…
We purchased our first family pet. I’m not counting the three lethargic geriatric cats we had when the kids came along as pets. They were too old to understand kids and the kids were too young to understand geriatric cats. All three cats died within the first few years of our having kids.
This is the first pet purchased solely on our kids’ terms, all thanks to Malik. He earned this reward after working toward an important goal. I picked the kids up from school. All three of them knew where we were headed next. I typed Pet Kingdom into the dashboard GPS and pulled onto the freeway.
The parking spot directly in front of the store was free. I was glad as the idea of walking across a lot with three little kids, a new pet and a bunch of new gear wasn’t super appealing.
Before we unload, the next step was to play a game of drill sergeant. It’s the same speech for every store we enter, “Okay kids! Stick together, no yelling, no running, inside voices, be polite, walking feet (totally different than no running), don’t touch anything, look with your eyes – not with your hands (also totally different than don’t touch anything), be helpful, and use listening ears. We will leave the store if any one of you freaks out and we will not be returning to choose a pet today. You are responsible for the whole team so don’t disappoint your teammates. Got it?”
“Got it!” All three practically squeal, teetering dangerously close to yelling and totally trampling on inside voices. We review those particular directions again and I open the car doors.
We walk directly to the help desk in the back of the store. The teen behind the counter asks what he can do for us.
“I’m here!” Malik says as if the entire planet knows what exactly we want.
“Hi!” he can see us.
“We are going to need some help.” I point toward the wall of glass aquariums. “What can you tell me about this guy?” I pick the $59.99, three-month old one instead of the $300 full grown one, even though it is totally obvious the full grown one would be so much cooler.
“Awe! She is so cute!” Malik says as the store attendant removes the baby from the cage and places her in Malik’s arms.
“Actually, we can’t tell if she is a boy or a girl yet. It’s a little too soon.” He says to Malik. “One of the really cool things about these guys is they won’t run. They will let you walk around with them and are very tame.”
“She’s a girl!” Malik says. “I know she’s a girl. We are going to call her Beethoven Taco.”
“That’s pretty cool dude,” the kid smiles approvingly.
“So can she be red?” he asks.
“This is her color.” Malik is told.
“So how about the red one Mom?” he longingly looks at the huge red one in the next cage over.
“That one is more expensive. So, we can get this baby or we can wait for a red baby?” I explain.
“No this is my baby!” he doesn’t think twice.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yes.” He answers and gives her a kiss on the head.
“Oh … my …. God!” I hear Isabella say. I look behind me, toward the counter. Blu and Isabella are standing next to some other customers, “Look! He is getting a pet rat!”
The middle aged man with serious tattoos and huge muscles bulging out of a very tight shirt looks at her out of the corner of his eye and smiles but doesn’t confirm or deny.
Another teen behind the counter places the rat, held by the tail, in a brown paper bag and staples it shut. He places it on the counter. The bag moves around a bit.
“Um …” the hard core man seems to be at a loss for words, glancing at me for help.
“It’s not a pet. That’s food kids,” I say – clearing the air.
The man smiles his thanks.
“What?” Isabella asks.
“Food Mama?” Blu chimes in too.
“Yeah … maybe he has a hungry snake.”
“Oh!” they all go silent a little bit.
Next in line for the brown bag treatment is a pinky mouse. New born mice are pretty cute, I must say. Eyes closed, no fur, short life.
“Awe!” Malik says. “Look at that little guy,” he too is dropped into the brown paper sack, the top folded down and stapled shut.
“What am I going to feed Beethoven Taco?” Malik asks inquisitively.
“Not mice!” I say. “We aren’t getting a snake.”
The teen behind the counter sets us up with a starter kit. Everything we absolutely need to keep Beethoven Taco alive. After the pre-purchase orientation (that I had to sign as a responsible adult), I get nervous and order two books on Amazon – certain our new baby might be too young and delicate to become a Chennamchetty.
We finally get Beethoven Taco home with all her gear and I get to work setting her up in Malik’s room.
“Actually, I’d like to call her Chammak Challo – you know that one Spanish love song I know?” his little eyes look lovingly in my direction as he holds Beethoven Taco gently.
“You mean the Hindi love song?” I ask.
“Yeah. Come here you little sweetie! You are my little Chammak Challo.”
Later that night, I tucked Malik into bed and fall asleep in the bottom bunk. I woke up at midnight to find my six-year-old holding his little Chammak, whispering sweet nothings to her.
“You need to go to bed,” I tell him. “It is dangerous to fall asleep with her. You could squish her and she will get too cold out of her cage.” I briefly check the thermometer in her aquarium and realize it’s too cold in there as well. I make a mental note to read up on evening heat requirements. We may need to go back to Pet Kingdom for a night heat lamp.
“It’s okay Mom! I’m not sleepy. I was just worried about her. I don’t want her to be lonely.” He tells me.
“She’s going to be fine Malik. Let’s go to sleep.” I encourage.
“I can’t leave her Mom.” He pleads.
He puts her back and locks the screen lid. “I need my pillow.”
“Okay,” I hand him a pillow and blanket and he lays down next to his new baby – separated by the aquarium glass and falls asleep on the floor.
Chammak kept her name for a total of 48 hours until she was re-named “Actually, Mom, she’s more like a Tea Cup! Yeah! Her name is Tea Cup.”
“Tea Cup?” I have no idea where that came from.
“Yes. She’s my little Tea Cup.”
She kept the name Tea Cup for an entire day.
“Good thing she isn’t a dog Malik. She would never have a chance. You keep changing her name.”
Weekend over, we’re back at school. Malik’s first question at pick up, “How’s Taco doing Mom?”
“Taco?” I ask. “Is her name Taco now?”
“Yes! It’s going to be Taco.”
We go back to the pet store for crickets, some drift wood, a cave and a ceramic night heater.
And by bed time, “Her name is Amanda. It’s Amanda because I just love human Amanda.”
“Good night Amanda.”
It’s been three weeks since we got Amanda. Her name has changed three more times, but eventually circles back to Amanda.
Amanda our bearded dragon.
Great story! So funny! You’re a quick editor. Love the way you capture kids’ enthusiasm and quirky imaginations. Keep the stories coming.