A Decision is Made

A Decision is Made

We were all called together for a conclave. We gathered around the dining room table to answer the question that had been asked numerous times. We needed to make a decision. It was the time to decide. 

“Should we be allowed to get a pet?”

From the standpoint of my mother and father, the answer was clear, “No way.” Who would be the one responsible for its upkeep? 

It also seemed quite clear to my mother and father that they would. It’s not that they didn’t trust us; well maybe that was part of it; it was more of the understanding that though we promised to take care of the said pet, over time, they knew that promise would falter, and it would be their responsibility to maintain its survival. 

From the standpoint of my sisters and me, the answer was also clear, “Absolutely yes!” We promised to be responsible. There were three of us. We could cover for each other should our responsibilities dictate. 

The discussion continued with each person stating their own opinion, some backed up by others until it was time to decide. My sisters and I had the numbers (3 to 2), but my parent’s votes carried more weight giving them more power. We finally reached a consensus and were allowed to have a pet. We had to agree to some rules and stuff, which I don’t remember at all. 

The next part of the decision-making process was what animal to get? My father wanted a dog, a specific type, a german shepherd. He had a picture with one when he was younger and wanted the prestige of walking this big dog in the neighborhood. My sisters wanted a bird. Parakeets were the in thing back then. My mother desired a cat. Cats can take care of themselves most of the time. I just wanted an animal I could keep in my room and did not need much upkeep.

I should let you know following the pet we did get, it was years before more animals came into our house. My sisters did end up eventually getting a number of parakeets over time. I remember the birds tweeting a lot and they had cages that had to be cleaned. They resided in my sisters’ room.  I don’t remember them lasting very long. As for my dad, I got him a white german shepherd named “Rusty” when he was in his 60s and I was in college. It turns out a german shepherd in an apartment is not a good thing to have. He eventually gave the dog away. My mother did get a cat, appropriately named “Looney”, when she was in her late 70s and living on her own. He lasted a few years, 

As for me, I made out great from the conclave’s decision. I got to have a turtle. He lived with us for many years. He lived in a small rectangular tank that was left in different places around the apartment, giving him lots of different scenery to view. When I was 14 years old he passed away. It might have been the fact that we left him by an open window in the winter and the water froze or the fact that we put the tank on the radiator to get it to melt the ice afterward. But eventually, he gave up trying to adapt and left us. 

He was buried in the courtyard of our apartment building. I played “Taps” on my trumpet at his funeral. (It was the only tune I knew at the time.)

We never did have a conclave again. It determined that we could make whatever decisions we wanted, whenever we wanted, as long as we weren’t living under my parent’s roof. I guess when you get to pay the bills, you get to make the rules and decisions.