Occasional we got our hands on something more exotic. When I was 17, we took charge of two orphaned raccoon kits, Meeko and Wednesday. We taught them to fish for minnows in our bath tub. When we walked into the mudroom to their kennel, they'd start purring and chirping with excitement, reaching their little paws out toward you, longing to be held. They were like kittens with hands, allowing them to be 120% more mischievous then any house cat. They greedily drank from bottles, and they absolutely despised our dog. Eventually they had to be handed over to a raccoon rehabilitation site, but that was a fun few months.
My favorite pet, by far, was our fantastic dog, Scout. He was a mutt from the pound, small and black; a half bred Labrador who once ate an entire jar of peanut butter. Dogs are the supreme pet, aren't they? I have nothing against cats, but as I've never been allowed to have one because of allergies, it's always been dogs for me.
A close second in the ranks though was our rat, Sassy. You are probably squirming in your seat thinking of rat tails now, aren't you? It's always the tails people bring up. Maybe now I'd have a problem with them, but at the age of 10, I was smitten and fully in love with our little rat. Sassy was incredibly intelligent and sweet. Rats are very social and love people.
Ever since I moved away from my parents house, I've wanted a pet. This weekend, a tiny little idea started growing in my brain. By the end of Saturday, Jared and I were proud owner of Myrtle and Dolly. They are fascinating, quiet, and surprisingly dramatic. I'll have to fill you in with the whole sordid tale, tomorrow.
For now, you know what they say, If you give a Kip a mouse, she'll probably want a puppy.
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