PET NAMES

     I bought a beautiful new plant one day.  I was walking outside to plant the beautiful new plant just as my daughter was walking down the driveway.  “What are you doing out there Sugar?” I asked. 

     “Looking for cute boys,” she said. 

     “See any?”

     “Nope.”

     “Well, maybe you will find some cute boys later today.  It is still pretty early for cute boys.  All boys usually sleep until noon.  Cute boys sleep even later than that.”

     “Good point Daddyboy.  What are you doing?”

     “I am going to plant this beautiful new plant.” 

     “Where?” 

     “Next to that other beautiful plant over there.” 

     “You can’t.”

     “I can't?”

     “Nope.”

     “Why not? I don’t see the cops anywhere and Mommygirl is sleeping.” 

     “Because Cuddles is buried there.”  

Cuddles the cat died of old age.  My wife and my kids were devastated.   “Ok, I will plant this beautiful plant under the beautiful tree then,” I said.

     “You can’t,” she said.

     “I can’t?” 

     “Nope, you can’t.  The roots are too big and you will start cussing and the neighbors will call the police again.”

     “How do you remember that?”

     “Because you were digging the hole to bury Duckie when that happened.”  Duckie was an orphaned duckling that my youngest took in.  I have a suspicion though that she kidnapped the duckling from a wimpy mother duck.  Women will resort to things like that to satisfy their womanly urges to mother.  Duckie died from either choking on a piece of corn that the internet said never to feed a duckling or being rolled on by my oldest daughter during our very short-lived “naptime with a duckling.”

     “Oh yea, I forgot about that.  How about next to the gate then?” I said.

”Nope. That is where we buried Fluffy,” she said.  Fluffy was a hamster.  Fluffy was a tough one.  Fluffy actually experienced life after death.  Fluffy died the night before my daughter was supposed to take him to school to show her class.  The next morning we almost forgot Fluffy.  I ran back into the house to grab Fluffy and put him in his hamster carrying case so he would not be late for school.  I did notice that he was remarkably easy to catch.  I did not notice that he was dead.  My daughter’s daycare sitter did though, thank God.  She played it off as only daycare moms can and sent her to school without Dead Fluffy and called me to ask if she should tell my daughter Fluffy was now called Dead Fluffy or if I should break the news to her.  I was thrilled to be called out of an executive management meeting to hear the news.  Being in an executive management state of mind, I made an executive management decision.  I told the daycare mom that I would drop off a replacement hamster and all would be well.  Executive management tends to focus more on the big picture and less on the details.  That explains exactly why I dropped off a live brown hamster to replace a dead white hamster.  Eventually, that was explained away using the analogy of Daddyboy’s hair changing from brown to gray.  Live Fluffy was buried in our yard.  Dead Fluffy is actually buried in an unmarked grave somewhere on North Point Road between day care and where I work.  

     “Ok I will plant the beautiful plant at the corner of the house then.  Is that carcass free?" I said.

     “Nope. That is where Maddie is buried. Maddie ate the poisonous plant in the back yard.  You remember Daddyboy?” She said.

     “Oh yea, he was an inside cat right?” 

     “Yea.”

     “Why did we let him outside?”

     “He was staring at the window and we thought he was sad.”

     “That’s right.  Ok, how about the other corner of the house then?”

     “Nope, that is where we buried Willie.”

     “The one that was hit by the car?”

     “Yep.”

     “He was an inside cat too right?”

     “Yep.” 

     “How did he get outside?”

     “He looked sad too.”

     “You know, it might be a good idea to keep the inside cats inside the house from now on.”

     “Good point Daddyboy.”

     Our newest edition of an indoor cat, Satan, was staring at me, looking sad in the kitchen window. I looked around the yard and said, “I guess I could put the beautiful plant in a pot and then put the pot in the yard.”

     “Nope,” My daughter said, “It would clash with the tires and all of the other junk that’s already in our yard.” 

     “Good point Sugar,” I said.  I sat down on the porch steps, still holding on to my beautiful new plant and wondering if I should plant it in the trash can since tomorrow was trash day and just head on inside to make a grilled cheese sandwich.  

     “Daddyboy?” my daughter said, “How deep to you have to dig to plant the beautiful plant?”  

     “Not deep,” I said.

     “As deep as we buried everyone?”

     “Not even close to that deep,” I said.

     Then she did it.  The blind side.  She said one of those amazing things that all kids say to their parents at some point that make our toil and struggle so very worth the effort.

     “Well, the plant is beautiful.  And if we don’t have to dig a deep hole I think we should plant one on top of where we buried everyone.  Because they were beautiful too.  And I think about them a lot.  And I miss them a lot too.   Sometimes I even dream about them and they are good dreams. And in my dreams they are still alive.  The beautiful plant would be kind of like a tombstone.  Do you think that would work?”   

     She has such a beautiful mind.  She gets that from her mother.  A bug must have flown into my eye or something because my eyes started to leak a tiny bit.  

     “Yea Sugar.  That will work.  Let’s do it,” I said.  

     So we planted the beautiful plant on top of one of the rotting carcasses of a beautiful and beloved former pet.  And as we did that, we talked about them all.  And we laughed.  I told her the story of Dead Fluffy and Live Fluffy.  She said she had always had suspicions.  I told her how Dickie died and she got mad at her sister.  We talked about the inside cats and I reminded Sugar that Mommy told Sissy and her to never let the cats outside and how important that was.  And she said she knows why now.  And then she flipped the subject on me.  She is crafty like that.  She gets that from her mother too.  

     “How come you never had a pet Daddyboy?” she asked me.

     “I did.”  I told her.

     “Why don’t you like pets then?"

     “I only like animals I can eat.” I said, trying to move away from this subject.  She laughed and then I told her the truth.  

     I said, “Sugar, I do like pets.  I love them.  I don’t have one because every one I have ever had has broken my heart.  When they died, it hurt me.  And they always die. They just don’t live long enough. You know what I mean Sugar?”  

She didn’t say anything for a second.  I thought I may have taken this conversation a little too deep for her since it was already way too deep for me.  

     She said, “I know what you mean Daddyboy.”  And then she went off.  She told me she didn’t want pets anymore either.  Her life was complicated enough already without having to worry about her pets dying all the time.  She said she wished she could find a pet that would not die at all or at least live as long as she did.  She went on for a little while and I let her vent.  She stopped for a second and then said, “Daddyboy, if I can find a pet that lives a long time can I get one?”  

     “Sure thing Sugar,” I said.  

     We went back inside.  She went to her room and I went to sit down on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, evening and as much of the next day as possible.  Before I could sit down though, she came out of her room. 

     “A tortoise,” she said, “A tortoise lives one hundred and fifty years.”  

     I said, “It might be hard to find a tortoise around here Sugar.”  

     “Good point Daddyboy,” she said, and she retreated back into her room.  Just as I steadied myself, victoriously above my spot on the couch, she reappeared from her room, looked at me, smiled, and said, “PetSmart.”

Sugar and Callie

     “What?” I said.

     “PetSmart has tortoises.  They have two in stock right now.  I’ll get the keys.  We have to get more beautiful new plants for the others too.”  

     I thought, who stocks tortoises?  Or is it torti?  Is the demand really that high?  Is it legal to stock a tortoise?  I had no idea how much a tortoise might cost, so I took my wife’s wallet.  I am glad I did too because they are not cheap.  So now, we have a tortoise.  The tortoise is named Callie.  The tortoise even has its own Facebook page- Callie TheTurtle.  It does not post often.  It is a tortoise after all.  But it does post.  I like the turtle.  I tell everyone I like it because I like turtle soup.  The real truth is, I like it because it will never break her heart.  

     That is all.