by Greg Baysans


Our Pets, Our Pets' Pets

I like to think that Grandma would see the irony in it.

The sound of crickets recalls childhood summer nights spent at Grandma and Grandpa's farm. Grandma would say, "I couldn't sleep for them darn crickets," the closest she'd come to swearing.

With a pet bearded dragon in the house, I think of Grandma often. Crickets are food for them, especially young beardeds. Not only do the crickets "crick" all night, but we go out every few days, buy (!) new ones and bring them home, keeping them in a separate tank across the room from Freddie. I can all but see my Grandma shaking her head and rolling her eyes, acceptingly.

The thought of having a pet that eats live food has always somewhat bothered me. My suggestion we name the crickets didn't get the green light.

Now I'm reminded of a news story a few weeks back that became a funny speculation: a woman couldn't find her pet dog but did find someone's runaway, large pet snake in her basement. The snake had a visible lump. I couldn't help but suggest that the snake's owner give it to the dog owner who could then call it by the dog's name. "Here, Spot!"

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