You’ve been asking for a while now, and we know this is something that you really, really want, so we’re agreeing to it, but there are going to be some rules, O.K.? This is going to be your dog, not Mommy and Daddy’s, which means you will be taking care of him. And taking care of another living thing is a big responsibility.
Dogs need food and water every day, and it’s going to be your job to make sure he’s always got enough of both. It’s also going to be your job to give him baths to keep him nice and clean, and to walk him twice a day. If he poops on the sidewalk, you’re going to have to pick up the poop and put it in a little bag and throw it out. I know that might sound yucky, but it’s all part of owning a dog.
Pets sometimes get sick; that’s just a fact of life. If your dog does, you’ll have to take him to the vet—on your bike or in a cab, it’s up to you. It’s not going to be on your mother and me to worry about how you get him there. If he gets sicker and goes to Doggy Heaven, that will be very sad. Losing a pet is difficult. So is burying one, which is something you’ll be doing. And also saying a few nice words about him—thoughts, memories, that sort of thing. That’s called a eulogy. Your pet, your eulogy.
If it turns out that his grave happens to be on a mystical Native American burial ground that causes him—or a vaguely familiar version of him that’s possessed by a demon—to be resurrected (I know we may sound like a broken record here), it’s going to be your job to make sure he’s got enough food and water. Dead or undead, that’s still not our concern. You need to understand, heading into this, that you can’t just come running to us complaining that your dog’s eyes are red and glowing and that he’s staring at you while you sleep, because this was your decision.
Similarly, if he kills a deer and drags it to our yard to send a message about what he’s capable of, it’s going to be your responsibility to remove that deer carcass, piece by piece if you have to. Your pet, your dead deer.
If he steps things up, so to speak, and takes the life of a human, perhaps a neighbor or a delivery person, you should know that, as his owner, you might be legally implicated in that person’s death. If you try to cover up that death by hiding the body and, in your haste, bury it in the same mystical graveyard, prompting it to reanimate and unleash holy hell on the living, then, just as with the bathing and the feeding and the walking, that’s gonna be on you.
Screaming and crying because a blood-soaked zombie mailman is trying to bust through your bedroom window is going to fall on deaf ears. Your pet, your blood-soaked zombie mailman.
If, God forbid, the zombie mailman kills you, will we be upset? Of course we will. You’re our child. And our child didn’t take her pet-ownership duties seriously enough to anticipate this sort of thing.
At that point, if we choose to bury you in the magic graveyard and allow you to be brought back from the dead, we’ll need to make one thing absolutely clear beforehand. Just because your human life ends doesn’t mean your human responsibilities end with it. Homework is homework, whether you’re covered in worms or not. And, if the dog’s still kicking around, food/walks/baths—you know the drill.
So the answer is yes, you can get a dog. Or just stick with your goldfish. Your call. ♦
