Gerbils, two new little friends Options

[Remembering Dais...]

Daisy, my beloved Yorkie, left us on April 1, 2006. It was a terrible loss and this site helped a lot in the days following her departure.

For reasons to complicated to explain, I now have two gerbil boys. I have had a lot of fun making their habitat as comfortable as possible - just the kind of place gerbils would like to live. Although they are cute and I like them a lot, I don't have the deep attachment to them that I had for Daisy. But, maybe that is better since gerbils don't live very long.

One day I would like a dog again, but until then gerbils are great small pets - responsive, cute and easy to care for.


Daisy's mom

[Remembering Dais...]

Dear Moonbeam,

My childhood seems similar to yours. My father had a violent temper and was abusive to my mother and the rest of the family, including the dogs. He was successful in his work life and no one knew what went on in our home. When I was a teenager, I found out that he was a drug addict (prescription drugs), which explained some things.

At times, he seemed to love Debbie, our first dog, but he would terrify her if she had an accident and kick her if she didn't come fast enough when he called. We had a cat, named Glitter, who was declawed (horrible in itself) and she got out of the cottage when we were on vacation and was attacked by a dog. She crawled home and my sister and I begged my father to take her to the Vet. He waited until my mother and he were going out for dinner and drove away with the cat. She never came back. My parents told us that they had taken her to the Vet and he couldn't save her. I later learned that she was kept in the car (or trunk) while they had dinner and she died at some point and he buried her on the dunes. It seems unbelievable to me as I write it, yet it's true. We had hamsters and turtles and birds. I don't think any of them lived a normal life span.

Debbie had puppies and we kept one, named Zoey. Zoey died at 9 from a misdiagnosed heart defect. Debbie lived until normal old age.

I never told anyone about my father until I was almost 30. No one told me not to. I just knew.

In their old age, my parents got a dog named Cleo. She also was afraid of my father's feet. I wonder why? My father passed away when my son was in kindergarten, and nobody really mourned him other than my son, who was too young to know the truth about him. I never left my son alone with my father so he only knew the good side. Cleo has lived on with my mother and both are quite elderly. This time without my father has given my mother the chance to show her true love for Cleo and the bond between them is strong.

As an adult, my first pet was a hamster that I got from an intern who worked where I worked. I called him Ham and I tried to give him the best possible life. Then I had two guinea pigs, Sara and Peggy. Again, I did my best to give them a wonderful life. Then there was Daisy - my wonderful tiny Yorkie, with the congenital liver defect. We joked that while her physical manifestation was tiny, her soul was giant and she could protect me from everything. After her, I had no pets until the gerbils. Like guinea pigs, gerbils are very unhappy if they live alone, so I have two brothers who are tightly bonded. I really enjoy watching them enjoy their home.

When I would talk about my feelings about the importance of being empathetic and kind, my father would say that I would outgrow those feelings. I never did. I pity him now, but am glad to have time with my mother away from his jealous rages. I wish he had learned something in his life, but he didn't. It's sad.

So, what is the upside of this incoherent tale - my gerbils have a nice home, Daisy, the hamsters and the guinea pigs all had nice lives and my son is good with animals.


One day we were talking about getting a dog and he said that he wanted to go to the pound and get the worst off, ugliest dog that no one else would want so we could make him or her happy.


Best wishes,

Daisy's mom