Ever since we bought our own house, the kids have been lobbying for us to get them a pet. Katie wants a talking bird. Caleb wants a dog. They’ve both used every tool in their arsenal of emotional blackmail to try to bend us to their will. I’m not against pets, by any means, but I know what a big commitment it is to add a small and furry–or feathery–new member to your household, and I’m not sure the kids are taking the whole thing seriously.
Sure, they swear up and down now that, whatever wee beastie we bestow on them, they’ll bathe it and feed it and walk it and love it (and call it George), but I have to tell you that their fledgling attempts at personal responsibility have been rather hit or miss so far. What if the poor thing starves to death?
That’s why, when we finally do get a pet, I want it to be able to fend for itself, if need be.
And I think I’ve found just the creature.
Say hello to Mr. Fluffernutter:
Just to be on the safe side, I think we might skip over the “Fetch” part of the obedience training.