What is good about having a pet?

Throughout most of my life, I’ve had pets along for the ride beside me. Whether it was horses, cats, dogs, hamsters, parakeets, ducks, guinea pigs, rabbits, or fish, my life has been enriched and better because of them.

There are a myriad of posts and resources on the scientific and health-related reasons why owning a pet is good for you (lowers blood pressure, relieves stress and anxiety, etc.). Rather than regurgitating what you’ve probably already read a number of times or could simply use Google or Bing to find, I thought I’d personalize my post today to explain why it’s a good thing…to me.

Growing up in northern Iowa, my childhood dog was a mutt named Ralph. He was a somewhat non-descript light brown dog with black feet and a black muzzle. He had a tail that curved in a full circle up to his back. He was the type of dog that, cliche or not, would literally be my shadow every step of my day.

As a young adult, I didn’t have a dog (we had several cats) simply due to the care and time it takes to properly care for them. But all that was about to change.

In 2015, my daughter and her new husband adopted a Pembroke Welsh Corgi named Leo, from near the Amana Colonies near Iowa City. Naturally, as dog grandparents, we offered to dog sit anytime for the couple, who naturally took us up on it soon thereafter.

A year went by and, after having Leo for a few days over a weekend, I looked at my wife and said, “you know, we should it.” After looking at me like I was insane, I clarified my comment by adding, “get our own Corgi.” You know the way a child’s eyes light up at the thought of Santa and Christmas? That’s the look in my wife’s eyes after contemplating my suggestion.

Working with our daughter, we were able to get on the waiting list with the breeder to adopt our own Corgi. We drove the hour and a half down the interstate on a number of occasions to visit the litter. The last time, I could hardly get into the room they were in without ten puppies attacking my shoelaces relentlessly!

This little fella kept returning to the edge of the play area, fighting to keep his head up and his eyes open to play just a little bit more. Eventually, he made his way back to crash against one of his sisters and as we left the room, he closed his eyes, exhausted. It was that moment when we knew he was the one we’d call “Scamp”.

Several weekends later we returned to take the little guy to his new home. Now ten weeks old, he was bigger and one of the last pups to leave with his new family. He was rambunctious and definitely ready to go. Once in the car, he cuddled up in the crook of my wife’s arm and it was as if he’d been with us forever.

As I sit here writing this post, our Pembroke Welsh Corgi Scamp, now 7 years old, is snoring a bit as he lays on the top of the loveseat in our living room, a look of sheer contentment on his face. We sadly lost Leo several years ago to cancer, but he still lives on in our memories every day.

What is good about having a pet? Everything of course.