We never had pets growing up. Well, that’s not precisely true. Daddy got us a collie puppy who immediately bit a neighbor child and back it went. To wherever. Then Daddy got us a dachshund puppy who immediate developed some weird bumps on its head. Back it went. That was the end of the puppy phase for the pet-deprived Ubben children.

Later we picked up a stray cat and convinced Mother to let us keep it. We named him Trevor. Amazingly Trevor gave birth to kittens in my parent’s room, under the skirted night table, on the carpet. Off they went. To a farm in upstate New York, I think.

My mother was not a pet person.

I inherited this gene from her.

But I took pity on my pet-less children.

We got Adam a pair of female hamsters named Champagne and Caviar (this is 9 year-old Adam we’re talking about– already such a diva.) One day Molly came screaming down the stairs, with her friend Tamar close behind. Hysterical Molly couldn’t talk, but was clutching something limp and stringy in her hand. Tamar, who had a very cute lisp and a calmer head, explained that Molly had pulled the tail off one of the hamsters. The hamster grew the tail back; Molly was scarred for life.

Champagne and Caviar were succeeded by Anastasia and Druscilla (the wicked stepsisters in Cinderella.) One of them was a ringer and continuously had babies which were often eaten by the non-mother/father. One day I’d had enough, and we drove them to Flag Pole Hill and set them up in a condo.

Scott (who was a pet person) and I took in (or were taken in by) a beautiful stray baby Tuxedo cat that hung around our house. We named him Wonder and he grew to an enormous 22 pounds and refused to be cuddled or to use a litter box and for 6 years we let him out every night. In the morning he would return beaten and bloody, clearly having been in a barfight. He was finally attacked by one of the coyotes that ran roughshod through our neighborhood. It did not end well, but he went out fighting.

That concludes the history of my pets.

It does not conclude the history of my siblings’ or my children’s pets. They nearly all have or have had them. Except Molly who is clearly traumatized by the hamster tail incident (although they are getting a dog sometime, according to Lyla and Wren.) Erin and Kate have a huge boxer and Boston terrier (that’s me with them above–they love me); Traci rescues big dogs, mostly Rottweilers; Sarah for years had a sweet shih tzu named Slider. And of course, you’ve met Adam and Corey’s Sheila and Boo.

Lately people have been encouraging me to get a dog. And so I noodled the idea. Then I spent some time with my sisters and their dogs.

Miss Ellie is a Bisson Friese/spokesmodel. Ruby is a French Bulldog/mafia boss. They are both so cute, you want to eat them with a spoon. However, the conversation surrounding these dogs was enough to put me off getting a pet.

“Did she pee?” “Did she poop?” “When did she go out?” “Does she need to go out again?” So much peeing and pooping and when and how and who and again or now or later or did she or didn’t she? It was hilarious. And time consuming.

And how many times have you heard someone say, “I hate to cut this short, but I have to go home to (pick one) feed the dog/let the dog out/walk the dog/check on the dog.” And the training, the kenneling, the vet, the grooming, the boarding,

Y’all, for a non-pet person, it is just too much.

But I am willing to try. Lyla recently gave me a quiz on what kind of dog I should get. Turns out I am best suited to a good-natured, older dog that has no aggressive tendencies, isn’t particularly active, doesn’t bark often, and gets along well with children.

In other words a dog like me.

The perfect dog for me? A Tibetan Spaniel. Love the sparkler tail. Molly suggested we name it Muffin. I said if we are going to name it after baked goods, then I choose my favorite dessert.

Meet my new dog . . . DumpCake.