Ranking The Family Pets
Felix could down catnip like it was goddamn water, and we loved her for that.
Hello, all! Thanks for joining the family group chat. This is the one without grandpa, so you’re safe to have opinions here.
This chat was created so we could finally have a definitive ranking for the family pets — past and present. As we witnessed at our last get-together, this is a very touchy subject that is best brought up when we’re away from each other and any sharp kitchen utensils.
Remember, this is based on the average of the rankings that you all provided me, so there’s no reason for you to be upset and threaten emancipation (Bobby, I’m typing at you).
Alrighty. Here goes nothing:
This one is a no-brainer. Clover gave us twelve years of unconditional love, tail-wags, and dog kisses. Sure, he may have crapped on the carpet once or twice, but it was never malicious. He just mistook that green shag rug for grass.
Felix earns the number two spot with thirteen solid years as the family cat. She could down catnip like it was goddamn water, and we loved her for that. We even called her a “cat who thought she was a dog” which is a cat owner’s codeword for “she’s a cat, but fun.”
Reggie! Remember this guy? Great times. Didn’t really do anything, but man, did this guy have as much personality as a goldfish could have. His life was a wonderful three months.
Rosie is our ranking’s biggest wildcard. This was probably because we didn’t really know what hedgehogs are supposed to do as pets. Play like dogs? Nap like cats? Run like horses?
As Rosie proved, they do none of those things. But we can’t knock her off too many points because, if we’re being honest, it was stupid to buy a hedgehog in the first place. I’m not even sure they’re native to Ohio.
Tyson was aggressive, but he earned a higher spot by kicking the Christ out of Tim’s weak-ass Betta fish, Bruno, during those few days we were gone on vacation in New Jersey. The Viking funeral we gave Tyson when he died was completely appropriate, despite whatever the neighbors thought.
Our collective rankings show that Theo had no net positive or negative impact. In a way, Theo was as much a member of our family as, say, that waffle iron Dad got from Craigslist. We certainly knew it was there, but was it an absolutely necessary purchase? The numbers say no.
Getting a rescue animal is a lot like picking up furniture that you find on the street. It’s cheap and it looks easy, but that’s probably because something’s wrong with it.
Chester was like a mattress filled with bed bugs. Except he was filled with worms. Not sure which is worse.
Let’s be honest, we bought Betta fish for the same reason everyone else does — to watch them fight to the death like a couple of perspiring Roman gladiators. Bruno’s failure to live up to that expectation damaged his ranking, and our love for him, considerably.
Goddard sucks. Bobby bought this thing when he went through that phase of wearing gauges and shopping at Spencer's, and now we just wait for Goddard to die. I don’t know how he’s lasted seventeen years.
Goddard doesn’t do anything except breathe, eat the occasional fly, and stare at you with a glassy desperation that says, “Please, kill me before I kill you.” I’ll take this opportunity to admit that I was the one who let him out of the cage and into the wild. My only regret is that I let him back in the house when he returned.