I don’t even have a chia pet–or a potted plant–mainly because my fabulous career is so dizzyingly draining, in a richly gratifying way, that I don’t want to make time to take care of a whole other entity. I can barely dress myself.
But so many people I know–especially lesbians–swear by their pets, counting on them for support, companionship, and unconditional love. (Try not feeding them for a day and see how unconditional that love is.)
So what makes for the best kind of pet? I would never get another turtle, mainly because the one I had as a child shatteringly turned into turtle soup overnight, but at least on paper I like the idea of dogs. (Cats not so much. I’m allergic, plus there was that musical.) Which kind of dog or cat–or hamster or goldfish or ferret or boyfriend–is the sweetest one to have? Which kind sheds the least, shits with the most distinction, and isn’t up in your face, though they’ll be there for you in darker times? Which kind would actually enhance my life rather than ratchet up its hell factor?
And don’t say chihuahuas. Too ’90s.