Pets III

Jefferson City was, somehow, not any more conducive to pet longevity than past homes had been.  We continued to go through attempts at pet  ownership, but until the very last summer, when we got our long term dog, Sadie, we just had bad luck. 

We had a little dachshund named Gretel, who, I frankly barely remember except through pictures.  I'm pretty sure she never got housebroken and was no longer welcome in the parsonage.  I think we had a cat named Beethoven, as if naming it for a composer would give it more class or something, but running from our family seemed to be our pets favorite pastime, and he didn't last long, either.

My sister attempted to make a go of having fish.  She just had a small bowl and some gold fish, but her busy schedule got in the way of fish bowl maintenance.  A lot of the Jefferson City kids got summer jobs as tour guides at the capitol.  Tour guides rotated from giving tours of the beautiful capital building, the Governor's mansion, and an area called Laclede's landing.  I guess not too many people came to Laclede's Landing, so the days there were pretty boring.  On one of those days, I guess Beth got bored enough to actually think about her fish bowl.

Since I was too young for a summer job, I was busy doing nothing at home while my parents were at work.  In those days, the phone was attached to the wall and there were no answering machines.  If you  were out and about, you were not able to make a call unless you used a pay phone, and if people tried to reach you, they were just out of luck   But, since I was by the old fashioned house phone, Beth called  to ask me to change the water in her fish bowl. 

Previously I have written about how overly dramatic I could be.  Well, I had nothing on Beth.  When I say she asked me to clean her fish bowl, I mean she let me know how desperate the situation was and that the fish would probably die a painful lingering death of fin rot  if I did not clean the bowl and give them pristine, life affirming water.  Oh, and by the way, could you feed them, too?  The idea of taking pity on her or the fish was never an option.  "You can clean it yourself when you get home"  More pleading "But I have a date!  I won't have time!  They're gonna diiiiiieeeee!! And it will be your fault."  Me:  "No."  Her:  "Pleeeease!  They're gonna die!!"  Me: "No.  Clean it yourself"

I am sure this went on for awhile before one or the other of us finally hung up.  About two seconds later, the phone rang.  I knew it was her.  I didn't answer because I was NOT going to clean her damn fish bowl!  It rang, and rang and rang...No answering machines in those days.  No fancy volume controls or cool ringtone.  No, it was a loud, monotonous, persistent sharp bbrriinngggbbbriinngg until you wanted to tear the thing from the wall and shove it into the garbage disposal.   But then I thought, "What if it's Mom or Dad? What if it's an emergency?  What if it's a church member desperately trying to reach the minister?"

So, after fifty-two rings, I answered it.   "Bitch!" loudly emanated from the headset before I even finished saying Hello.  So I hung up and did the only rational thing I could do.  I called Mom at work.  "Beth just called me a bitch".  To this day, I do not know what I expected her to do, but it seemed important to me that my mother know about the great insult to which I had just been subjected!"  Since she was not all that concerned, I made a trip to the Sunday School building and got a Coke for a quarter and came home to nurture my bruised ego.  Actually, I probably would have gone to get a coke no matter what! . 

I think the fish did not die, but they didn't last too long after that, anyway.

Since our track record with pets was not so good, we learned to enjoy other people's pets instead. 


Tomorrow I will tell you about some of the memorable animal encounters while in Jefferson City