This is story #34 in the series “Where Exactly is Home?”. The author recommends you read them in order.
Introduction:
“Where Exactly is Home?” follows the story of my parents, my two younger brothers and me, Susan, who emigrated from war-battered Britain, in the mid-late 1950’s, to Southern Rhodesia, Africa.
The effects of this move on our family were huge, as we struggled to adapt to such a different way of life. Only after further upheaval, and more long-distance travelling, did our family eventually settle in the city of Salisbury, Rhodesia.
However, we did not know then that we would not remain there for the rest of our lives, either.
When the family first went to Africa, I, Susan, was 9 years old. My two brothers, John and Peter, were almost 7 and 4, respectively.
Nowadays, as seniors, John and Peter live in England. I live in Canada. Throughout our lives, we have both benefitted from, and suffered because of, our somewhat unusual childhood.
I, for one, still sometimes ask myself which country represents home to me.
This is a series of stories under the title “Where Exactly is Home?” – I recommend you read them in order, starting with story #1.
34. A Free-Falling Hamster and a Bald Parrot, Two of Many Pets Who Lived with Us
“Why don’t you have any pets, Grandma?”, my grandchildren asked me a few years ago, when they came to stay. “A dog, for instance?” Their question always reminded me of my younger son, aged 14 or so, over two decades ago, asking endlessly if we could have a dog. I could never quite recover from the surprise of his question, since I knew all too well that he had always been terrified of dogs. As a child, he had been attacked by a neighbour’s large dog outside of Ottawa. He had outgrown his fear when local friends in our own community had acquired a loveable Labrador puppy, which we all watched grow and thrive. Our son was hoping to change our minds about pet-rearing, so he would often ask, “Why can’t we have a dog, too?”
My husband, however, who had grown up in a dog-owning family, hadn’t wanted the burden of looking after a pet, especially as my husband travelled frequently for business. Neither had I, really, as I struggled daily with the demands of working as a teacher, running house and home, and looking after my two sons whilst my husband was away. Yet, I could never forget that I, too, had grown up surrounded by pets of many shapes and sizes, so perhaps I felt somewhat guilty, too.
I tried to explain this to my grandchildren, but I doubted that they, at their young ages of 8 and 7 respectively, understood the implications and expense involved in looking after a pet. It is a long commitment to take on, though I realize that domestic animals give much love in return and are considered by their owners to be like another member of the family.
