Little Bits of Happiness

Pretty much my entire life I've had a pet. My very first memories are of our cat Bootsie and our dog Tippy. (I was so young that I'm certain I didn't choose the names, so don't ask.)

After Bootsie and Tippy we had our two copper spaniels, Cookie and Copper. (I came up with Copper all by myself.) Copper was a pretty wild puppy and started to become too big for me to control and when he almost bit my oldest sister's nose it was decided that it would be better if he were taken care of by someone else with better discipline ability.

I also remember having hamsters and lizards, a rat named Tucker, a chicken named Salt (as a chick he was a very light yellow and one sister had a black and white, so that chick was named Pepper). Salt grew up to become a rooster and we started to get complaints from the neighbors when he would crow at the rise of the sun.

Everyone tells me that when I was really young I had a pet duck (I'm willing to guess that his name was Daffy or something like that).

After my sister just older than me graduated from Jr. high her best friend gave her a kitten. To honor that best friend the kitten was given the same name (this led to a great deal of confusion when we left notes on the door saying "Don't let Heather out!"). It was around this time that I got the dog of my teenage years, Spud.

Many people have memories about their pet being the greatest pet in the world, Spud is my memory.

Spud has been gone for a couple of years now, but just last semester of school I was sitting in a class for my Animal Science major when a graph came up showing how the age of a companion animal compared to that of a human. 1 year equal to 7 dog years is a pretty close generalization, but as I looked at the graph I came to realize that Spud stayed around for a lot longer than he was probably supposed to. (I'd had him for nearly 14 years and he wasn't a puppy when I got him.)

Since then I've been living in student housing where pets aren't allowed. Even still I've had my goldfish (which has brought many dirty looks from the owner). Constantine will celebrate his year-and-a-half mark just after I get married (in almost two months).

I can't throw him a ball or even pet him, but even still, when I come home and he starts swimming excitedly (I think that by now he's figured out that food only shows up when I'm around,) it makes me happy.