Pet Therapy

Ann: I was just watching reruns of “Frasier”. The dad’s dog, Eddie, had a little friend, a pigeon who would come and sit on the balcony. It made me think of you and the menagerie of animals you used to have at your house. Didn’t Kate’s dog, Misfit, have a pet?

Pam: Don’t remind me! Yeah…our dog had a pet. It was actually a compromise. Kate kept insisting Misfit was lonely and needed a ‘wife’. We weren’t about to add another dog to the household so we settled on a guinea pig.

Ann: What was his name again?

Pam: Fred. He was pretty cute and believe it or not, he really did seem to be Misfit’s pet. Imagine a little Chihuahua and a guinea pig that would play together, share their treats with each other, and even sleep together.

Ann: Only at your house!


Pam: It wasn’t always such smooth sailing though. Kate really got her feelings hurt when after Misfit had his pet guinea pig for about six months, Bret called her from the pet food aisle at the grocery store. He was standing in front of all the bags of critter food and called to ask Kate, “What kind of animal is Fred again?”

Ann: He didn’t know what kind of animal the guinea pig was?!

Pam: Yeah. Later he told me that he knew Fred was a furry rodent of some kind but when he got to the store and saw all the pictures on the bags, they all looked like Fred to him. He couldn’t remember if Fred was a guinea pig, a gerbil, a ferret, or what. Kate was pretty upset with her dad and told him, “What if someone had to ask what kind of animal you were? How would that make you feel?”

Ann: It didn’t seem to bother my college boyfriend when I’d ask him that question.

Pam: So what kind of animal was he?

Ann: I think I was dating an octopus.

Pam: At least Bret only had to endure Kate’s hurt feelings. That darn guinea pig almost caused me to lose a huge deal.

Ann: Okay…only you could blame a deal falling through on a guinea pig! I’m ready…let’s have it.


Pam: I was sitting in an important lunch meeting about to convince new clients to sign a huge contract when my cell phone vibrated and I saw it was Kate. She was about thirteen at the time and she knew not to call during the work day unless it was urgent. So I gave my apologies to the businessmen at my table, told them it was urgent, and answered the phone as discretely as I could.

Ann: I hate having to take a call at a time like that…everyone’s focused on you wondering what’s so important that you had to interrupt a meeting with a call. Did you step out?

Pam: I couldn’t. I was ‘trapped’ in the very center of one of those big round booths so I couldn’t step away without making half the table ‘scoot and stand’. I just hoped it would be a quick call and kept my voice down. Or so I thought.

Ann: It’s hard not to hear someone on the phone at the same table.

Pam: Kate sounded upset and she said she was worried about Fred. As I listened to her concerns the men at the table appeared to go on with their own conversations so I focused on Kate and on trying to figure out what the problem was.

Ann: Misfit’s pet guinea pig was sick?


Pam: In a manner of speaking…So I was listening to Kate and I was trying to understand her concerns and reassure her. Unfortunately my question to Kate came right during a lull in the conversation at the lunch table and the businessmen all heard me ask, “So how can you tell your dog’s guinea pig is depressed?” They suddenly all burst into laughter and instantly my credibility dropped through the floor.

Ann: What did you expect? In a single sentence you revealed that your daughter’s pet had a pet and that she believed it was suffering an emotional illness. I’ve known you for nearly twenty years and I’m wondering about you myself now!

Pam: She described the ‘symptoms’ and I told her I was sure that Fred was just fine.

Ann: Not so fast…maybe the fact that Bret didn’t know what kind of animal he was sent Fred into a clinical depression. Perhaps he needs therapy.

Pam: Hey, don’t give Kate any ideas!