We’ve been in a nostalgic mood these last few weeks, what with the holidays and all.
We asked friends and readers from across the continent to tell us about their first pet . . .
Here are some more of the stories they shared with us:
Katharine Weber (Illinois) I’ve had dogs for my entire life with the exception of one year, including before I was born! My parents have always owned dogs; still do. They had a beagle named Smoky before I was born. I was the first child, so naturally Smoky became my pet. My first word was “dog.” My first swear word was also related to dogs! My mom saw me carrying a newspaper and when I saw her, I said, “Sh*t! Smoky peed on the floor!”
As a child, I had a succession of collies. One was just like Lassie! He knew so many tricks. Then I had an English setter, German shorthair pointers. At ten, I got my first “show” dog, an English pointer named Coco. I showed her in 4H. She died the summer after my sophomore year in college. My junior year, I did not have a dog. The following summer, my then-fiancé bought me a Labrador puppy for my 21st birthday. The rest, as they say, is history.
Hilary Lane (Colorado) My first pets came within a few weeks of one another when I was about five. I lived in San Lorenzo, California. I wanted a cat, my dad wanted a dog. My mother was scared of dogs and hated cats. She allowed a canary (she loved how they sang), but I wanted my own pet since she wouldn’t let me near the canary. So my dad got a pair of goldfish for me. Eisenhower was President, so I named one goldfish Ike and the other one Mike (to rhyme). I named the canary Dickie, maybe after Richard Nixon, Eisenhower’s VP. The goldfish bowl was in my room and I loved watching them, but that interest wore off since I couldn’t really interact with them. The canary was basically a caged bird who sang when my mother vacuumed or played the piano, but he wasn’t much fun for me, either. The goldfish died within a couple of months, probably because of their environment (I heard that my dad got replacement fish and I didn’t know it, so maybe the first Ike and Mike died sooner). The canary made it for a few years, probably because he wasn’t under my care.
Abigail Witthauer (Alabama) My very first pet was Squeaker the guinea pig. The first pet I chose was Khaki the whippet. I was ten or eleven years old and I wanted to show dogs. Khaki was a family pet first and foremost, but she was also my first show dog and the dog that really began my passion for canine behavior, which eventually became my career. I put several training titles on Khaki as a junior handler. I also wore some pretty epic early ’90s clothing to dog shows!
Photo from Abigail Witthauer
Marcy Rauch (New York) My first pet (well, the first one I begged for) was a wire-haired terrier named Chip. I wanted an old English sheepdog because of the dog on “Please Don’t Eat The Daisies,” but my parents got me a WFT and told me I could let the hair grow! My parents got one from a pet store (that’s what many of us did way back when), and it was sick. We returned it and lots of shady stuff happened. The store refused to refund the $$, so my parents went to the store and took the dog’s fee worth of merchandise, then got the store shut down. Chip was a neurotic little beast, but I loved him!
Stephanie Milbrose (New Hampshire) My parents were not good people in an assortment of ways. Pets were important to me when things were not going well. We were in Connecticut. I was seven at the time. I had a tiger cat called Princess. She was the most affectionate, sweetest thing and I can remember hiding in closets with her. Once my sister was born, it was only a month or two until my parents got rid of the cat. Apparently, they caught the cat looking at my sister one night and the next day the cat was gone. My parents were convinced that the cat would “suck out her breath” and smother her. They had a neighbor come and take my beautiful sweet cat to the shelter. I never saw her again. There were a series of animals that came to our home after that for short periods of time until they were inconvenient. As an adult, I now have between seven and nine dogs at any given time, a couple of cats, chickens, ducks, etc. The minute a non-human creature comes into my house, they stay until they take their last breath with me holding them. I wonder why?
Colette Kase (Mexico) I had two first pets, Mr. Charlie the rabbit and Portnoy the cat. My parents chose the pets. I think we lived in somewhere in the USA at the time, possibly Connecticut or New Jersey. I was too young to do much with Mr. Charlie except walk him around the garden on the lead. I do remember much drama when he died. He probably only lived a few years. Portnoy the cat, on the other hand, seemed to live forever. I was a teen when he died. I’m surprised I didn’t kill him. I did awful things to him in aid of helping him. These included the following: I made him a house between the screen outer door and the glass inner door where he remained without being found for an entire night. He learned to access the area between the ceiling and the floor of our attic. I saw a documentary about caving and how they used ropes tied to their waists so they didn’t get lost. So I tied a kite string around his neck. He nearly hung himself and my parents had to lift every floor board in the attic to find him as he was all wrapped round the rafters. He also suffered years of me practicing to be a vet. He was endlessly patient and really cool. Circa 1969–70.
Photo from Colette Kase
Katie Cronin (Ontario) Daisy was my guardian angel in dog form. I wasn’t very old, less than a year, when my dad discovered her. My mom ran into my grandparents’ house briefly (they lived directly beside us on the farm) while my dad waited outside. Suddenly, he noticed something dark moving along the house, so he went out to investigate. It was a smallish medium-sized dog, a border collie, just a bit younger than I was at the time. My dad felt bad for it and wanted to feed it, but all he had was leftovers so he put them out for her. After that, she stuck around and became ours! She was VERY protective of me, however. She would sleep right up beside my crib, and unless it was my father, she’d growl when anyone got too close, including my mom! It got to the point where my dad had to take her just so my mom could get me sometimes!
I’ll never forget a story of when I was learning how to crawl. My mother and grandmother were outside gardening and didn’t notice that I had started crawling off . . . specifically, toward the road. By the time they saw me, I was pretty much there and a car was coming. All they could do was scream and watch. Thankfully, Daisy was outside with all of us. She sprang into action, described by my mom as being like a black bullet, and slammed me out of the way. We were both unharmed. I apparently didn’t learn my lesson though, because it happened a second time, just like the first! After that, I’m pretty sure they kept me in the playpen.
This dog seemed to have nine lives. In total, she was hit by a car three times. We were under the belief she was trying to herd the cars due to her border collie instincts! In one incident, the driver got out and told my dad, “I’m sorry! I swear, SHE hit ME!” She ended up running into the side of the car and it knocked her out cold for a minute! Thankfully, for the most part, she left cars alone after that point. She lived to be about thirteen years old. In the end, it wasn’t all those cars that got her down, it was a stroke. She had trouble walking and eating after that, so we had to make the hard decision to put her down. My dad was heartbroken. She was always considered his dog, despite being my guardian. That was some dog, and to this day we still have a special memorial on the farm where we buried her.
What are your memories of your first pets?
