I Was Afraid of Animals. Now I’m Collecting Them.

 

I started with one free puppy. Now I’m apparently trying to collect every available color.

I never thought I would become an animal lover.

When I was young, I did not dream about owning a dog. I did not beg my parents for a kitten. I was not the child running toward every animal while shouting, “Can I pet it?”

I was the child moving in the opposite direction.

Fast.

Cats scared me. Dogs scared me. Anything with teeth, claws, or the ability to chase me was automatically suspicious.

Now I have dogs, cats, and apparently an unfinished shopping list of additional animals I would still like to bring home.

I do not know exactly when the transformation happened.

One minute, I was afraid of dogs.

The next minute, I was looking at calico kittens and thinking:

Technically, we could fit one more.

That is how they get you.

Dogs Used to Be Part of the Danger

When I was in high school, my friends and I used to do something incredibly intelligent.

We would break into—or sneak through—someone’s yard.

Why?

I have no idea.

Teenagers do not always require a reason. Sometimes stupidity is the entire activity.

Naturally, some of those yards had dogs.

The moment the dogs noticed us, they would start barking and chasing us. We would run for our lives while screaming and laughing like a group of people who had learned absolutely nothing from the previous incident.

It was terrifying.

But somehow, I also enjoyed it.

I guess danger feels different when you are young, surrounded by friends, and confident that your legs will save you from the consequences of your own decisions.

The dogs were probably thinking:

Why do these idiots keep entering my property?

Honestly, fair question.

Those experiences did not exactly help me become comfortable around animals. Dogs were not adorable companions in my mind.

They were security guards with teeth.

Then I Came to America and Met the Giants

When I moved to America, I began seeing dogs that looked less like pets and more like livestock.

Dude, why are some dogs so big?

I am only 4 feet 11 inches tall. Some of these animals can look directly into my eyes without lifting their heads.

That is not a dog.

That is a roommate who does not pay rent.

Then came the first day of my caregiving job.

Starting a new job is already stressful. You are trying to remember names, instructions, responsibilities, and where everything is located. You want to make a good impression and avoid doing anything embarrassing during your first shift.

I arrived at the owner’s home and discovered that she had two huge, long-haired Labrador retrievers.

Wonderful.

Exactly what a small woman who was afraid of dogs wanted to see on her first day.

They barked at me, and I probably reconsidered every decision that had brought me to that house.

I was 4 feet 11 inches.

They were approximately the size of two sofas with legs.

For a moment, I thought my caregiving career might end before it officially began.

But after barking at me, the dogs apparently completed their background check and decided I was boring.

They stopped.

Then they walked away and left me alone.

That was it.

No attack.

No dramatic chase.

No need to run across somebody’s yard like I did in high school.

They looked at me, announced my arrival to the entire neighborhood, and then went back to their business.

Something about that experience made me realize that maybe dogs were not constantly planning my death.

Most of them were simply curious.

Loudly curious.

Then Somebody Offered Me a Free Puppy

Later, somebody told me she was giving away a puppy.

My first reaction was not excitement.

I did not immediately say yes.

I was not even sure I wanted one. A puppy meant responsibility, feeding, cleaning, training, vet appointments, and keeping another living creature alive.

That sounded like a lot of work for someone who had never particularly wanted a pet.

But something happened.

I kept thinking about it.

Maybe I was curious. Maybe those giant Labradors had quietly changed my mind. Maybe I finally felt ready to see what having a dog was actually like when the dog was not chasing me out of somebody’s yard.

Eventually, I said yes.

And that was the beginning of the end.

The puppy came home, entered my life, and apparently rewired my entire personality.

Suddenly, dogs were not frightening creatures anymore.

They were funny, needy, affectionate little weirdos who followed you around, stared at you while you ate, stole your spot, and somehow convinced you that every suspicious noise required an investigation.

I started loving dogs.

So naturally, I got another one.

Because once you discover that you like animals, apparently the next logical step is multiplication.

One Dog Became Two Dogs

Getting a second dog felt completely reasonable.

The first dog needed a friend.

That is what pet owners tell themselves.

“It will be good for the dog.”

“The dog will have someone to play with.”

“They can keep each other company.”

All valid points.

We conveniently ignore the fact that two dogs also mean twice the food, twice the fur, twice the barking, twice the vet bills, and twice the number of animals standing outside the bathroom waiting for you.

Still, I loved them.

Even when they created messes.

Even when they behaved like they had never been fed in their entire lives approximately five minutes after eating.

Even when they stared at me with betrayed expressions because I refused to share something they should not eat.

This was no longer fear.

I had officially become one of those people.

Then I Entered the Cat Department

Dogs were apparently not enough.

Eventually, I got a cat.

Remember, I used to be afraid of cats too.

Cats seemed unpredictable to me. They could sit peacefully one second and then slap something for reasons known only to themselves.

But once I lived with one, I began to understand the appeal.

Cats are hilarious.

They act independent, but they somehow appear the moment you open food.

They ignore the expensive bed you purchased and sleep inside the box it arrived in.

They demand affection and then become offended when you touch them for half a second too long.

They knock something off a table, look directly at you, and show absolutely no remorse.

Basically, cats have the confidence many humans spend years trying to develop.

So I got a cat.

Then I got another kitten.

One dog became two dogs.

One cat became two cats.

And instead of recognizing that my home had reached a perfectly reasonable animal population, my brain started browsing future possibilities.

Apparently, My Collection Is Missing a Calico

I already have a tabby.

I have a tuxedo.

But I still think a calico would be nice.

Look, I did not create the different cat colors. I am simply appreciating the available options.

A calico would complete the set.

Probably.

Unless I later see an orange cat doing something ridiculous online and decide I need one of those too.

Then there are more dogs.

I still catch myself thinking about getting another one.

This is the danger of becoming an animal lover. There is always another animal that needs a home, another cute face online, or another completely unnecessary reason why your current pets supposedly need a new sibling.

You begin with:

“I’m not really a pet person.”

Then five years later, you are explaining why the living room needs another cat tree.

Nobody Warns You How Attached You Become

The strangest part is how quickly animals become family.

At first, you think you are simply bringing home a pet.

Then you learn their habits.

You recognize their different sounds.

You know when something is wrong just by the way they look at you.

You buy them treats, toys, beds, blankets, and ridiculous little things they do not need.

You worry when they are sick.

You miss them when you are away.

You take pictures of them doing absolutely nothing and show those pictures to people who did not ask.

“This is my dog sleeping.”

“This is my cat sitting.”

“This is the same cat sitting in a slightly different location.”

Important documentation.

They become part of your daily routine and your idea of home.

A house without them begins to feel too quiet.

I Did Not Plan This Life

It is funny because I never imagined myself surrounded by animals.

I did not plan to become the person who talks to pets as though they understand every word.

I did not plan to clean litter boxes, pick up dog poop, remove fur from my clothes, or negotiate with an animal that refuses to move from my chair.

But here I am.

Life does not always give us what we originally wanted. Sometimes that is disappointing, as I wrote in Life Said No. Apparently That Was the Final Answer.

But sometimes life gives us something we never knew we wanted.

I did not spend my childhood wishing for a house filled with pets.

That dream arrived later.

It arrived as a free puppy I almost did not accept.

If I had said no, I might never have discovered this whole part of myself.

I would never have known how much comfort, laughter, chaos, and love animals could bring into my life.

The B.S. Truth

I went from being terrified of cats and dogs to considering whether my animal collection needs a calico.

That is character development.

Animals can be a lot of work. They cost money. They create messes. They damage things. They wake you up, follow you into the bathroom, and occasionally behave as if your entire home belongs to them.

To be fair, they are probably correct.

But they also make an ordinary day better simply by being there.

They do not care if you are successful, attractive, funny, or in a good mood.

They are just happy that you came home.

Well, dogs are happy.

Cats may act as though your return interrupted something important, but they noticed.

I never expected to become an animal lover.

Now I cannot imagine my life without them.

Would I get another dog?

Maybe.

Would I get another cat?

Also maybe.

Would a calico look adorable with my tabby and tuxedo?

Absolutely.

Do I need one?

That is an unnecessarily judgmental question.

B.S. or Truth?

Have you ever gone from being afraid of animals—or simply not wanting pets—to becoming completely obsessed with them?

And be honest: how many pets are too many?

I am asking for somebody who may already be planning the next one.