Are Pets Really Good for Us? - Pacific Standard
We just adopted a dog, meaning I’m now a pet owner, meaning I’m now responsible for another living creature. It’s weird.
Her name is Bella. She’s a pit bull mixed with something that is not a pit bull, and that’s as much as we know. She’s a fine animal, super loving, and has yet to bite off my toes; so far, so good. But beginning this process of taking care of another living creature has all kinds of new concerns floating through my brain, many of them not so great.
For instance, Bella defecates four times a day. Let’s say she survives another decade—she’s two, right now. That means I’ll be on the hook for bending over and picking up 14,600 pieces of fecal matter. Then there’s the twice-a-day feedings (7,300 in total), tons more walks, and the financial cost of whatever medicines and surgeries she’ll need. Certainly, I’ll be forced to miss any number of social activities due to these responsibilities. (On the flip side, she’ll be there as a perfect excuse if it’s an undesirable activity.)