Some battles just can't be won.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
One of The Many Things I've Never Understood
Many people chose a pet that would, if it still had its poison/stinger/claws/fangs, kill said person. I've never understood this fascination with caring for a creature that has a habit of killing your own species. Maybe it's just me, but I think, the definition of a pet, is, in part, a creature that enjoys to be pet.
If a pet loathes physical contact with its own, can it still be considered a pet? Or is it just more of a treasured prisoner? Maybe I'm missing something, maybe there is some distinct draw for owning a tarantula, some deep emotional or spiritual connection, or maybe, like farm animals, they contribute to the owner's survival and prosperity.
But I have my doubts. I love pets, I love animals and I try to reserve my judgment until I meet the said person's tarantula/scorpion/poisonous snake/ baby blood-crazed minotaur, because maybe they are right, and Teddy the tarantula is adorable and loving once you get past his love nibbles.
I just wonder sometimes.
If a pet loathes physical contact with its own, can it still be considered a pet? Or is it just more of a treasured prisoner? Maybe I'm missing something, maybe there is some distinct draw for owning a tarantula, some deep emotional or spiritual connection, or maybe, like farm animals, they contribute to the owner's survival and prosperity.
But I have my doubts. I love pets, I love animals and I try to reserve my judgment until I meet the said person's tarantula/scorpion/poisonous snake/ baby blood-crazed minotaur, because maybe they are right, and Teddy the tarantula is adorable and loving once you get past his love nibbles.
I just wonder sometimes.
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