GRAND Magazine - November/December 2008 - (Page 26) grand gestures Life is just a bowl of grandfish By Judyann grant guess what comes along with the kids? P Operation Separation of grandcat and grandpig began… lenty of pets passed through our lives as our daughters grew up: birds, cats, chickens, dogs, ducks, fish, hamsters, rabbits and roosters. Then, when the girls grew up and moved out, they took whatever remained of their menagerie with them. After 20-plus years, our house was pet free. The freedom was short-lived. When the grandkids came along, they brought with them something I hadn’t anticipated: grandpets. Three have been weekend visitors. Daisy, a combination of beagle, greyhound and Houdini, is grandson Isaac’s dog. She stayed with us during the weekend our neighbors were hosting an outdoor wedding. Fearing this accomplished escape artist would crash the festivities next door, I planned to walk her before the ceremony began. I triple-checked Daisy’s collar before opening the door. She yanked the leash, spun in a circle and leapt into the air. With heart-pounding visions of her getting loose, I grabbed her up in a bear hug and lugged her back into the house. Nature’s call would have to wait until the bride and groom departed. All was calm when Toto, a brown-and-white guinea pig, came to stay. Belonging to granddaughters Kaylee and Eloise, Toto was a model grandpet. Each morning I visited him in his basement accommodations, refilled his water bottle and food dish and tossed him a few carrot-shaped woody treats. He was content—until Clover arrived the same weekend. Clover is granddaughter Bailey’s cat. A street orphan that my daughter adopted, Clover delighted in wreaking havoc. He climbed the curtains. He batted the leaves on my houseplants. He pulled magnets off the refrigerator and swatted them underneath. He clawed the woodwork. And then he spotted Toto. Even though Clover was now a well-fed cat, his street-beggar instincts kicked in. He was determined to take Toto down. Operation Separation of grandcat and grandpig began. The weekend-long battle left me exhausted. A few short weeks later, Bailey and Kaylee spied the shiny orange goldfish at a Field Days game booth. They just had to have those fish. We could get them by sinking one large rubber ball into one small glass bowl. For one dollar we got five chances. After spending ten dollars, we were the proud owners of two 59-cent fish. The fish jostled in their plastic bags. Amazingly, they were still alive when we arrived home. The girls vowed to keep the goldfish together forever. That’s when the fun began. Both my granddaughters longed to take the pair home, but neither wanted the responsibility. A hot debate ensued. They turned to me. “Could they live together at your house, Granny?” I didn’t want to haul out our dusty 10-gallon fish tank for two traumatized goldfish. Only after Bailey’s mom offered to buy a new slimline fish tank did I agree to the arrangement—the tank would go well with the nautical theme in my office. I must admit, I thoroughly enjoyed my grandfish. They didn’t bark or need walking. They didn’t scratch or require a litter box. They didn’t make noises or try to escape. What Princess and Lugnut did was grow. And grow. And grow. After much discussion, the girls agreed we should release them into a goldfish pond. Once again we’re pet free, but not for long. Grandson Isaac and his family are traveling to Kentucky next month; they promised Daisy she could spend the week at Granny’s. I’m just glad the neighbors aren’t planning another wedding. G 26 GRAND NOVEMBER DECEMBER 2008
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