A lesson in love and responsibility

My kids have been asking for a pet since our dog passed away. But my husband and I were reluctant. With two full-time jobs, three active kids and a household to run, we hardly had time to sleep.

We'd managed to make it work with our old dog mainly because he was old and content to spend most of his time asleep on the couch. How could we possibly fit a younger, more energetic and high-maintenance pet into the mix?

But the kids were persistent. "If not another dog, then a cat?" they asked. "If not a cat, a rabbit?" With each request, the size of the desired pet decreased, as did our resistance, until we finally arrived at a breaking point -- a hamster. Or, in our case, two.

The kids did their research, pricing out the hamsters and their habitats, and the ongoing costs of food and bedding. "You'll have to pay for this yourselves," I explained, thinking that by the time they saved enough, their interest would wane. Instead, they saved surprisingly fast.

We discussed the logistics. "What will you do with your hamster when we go on vacation? How much time will you spend with him? How often will you feed him and clean his cage?"

They answered each question carefully, with determination and reason. So much so that it was hard to find a loophole in their plans. "I will not be the one cleaning his cage," I assured them (and myself), over and over.

"We'll do it, mom. We promise!" the kids replied.

So finally, we drove to the pet store -- because there were no rescue hampsters up for adoption in our area -- and selected two hamster habitats -- because hamsters like their space -- as well as food and bedding.

"You'll want to get some chew toys to keep their strong," the salesperson advised. "And get a variety, because they get bored, just like kids." Really?

"And you'll want to take them to the vet for a check up, at least once a year." Really?

"And you'll want to give them these drops until they've settled in, because moving can give them the stress poops." Ok. That I believe.

Next, the kids selected their hamsters and waited with nervous joy while the salesperson boxed them up for the drive home. It took my son 15 minutes to walk the 15 feet to the truck, his excruciatingly slow pace designed not to shake the box.

Once home, we built the habitats, complete with fresh food and water, and gently placed the new residents inside. "Mine's eating!" My son exclaimed.

"Mine's running on its wheel!" My daughter responded. And that was that.

Until the next morning, when we discovered that my daughter's hamster had built its bed in the wheel, and then decided to go for a run, spraying poop and shavings all over her floor. "You'll have to clean this up," I told her.

And then my son informed me, matter of fact, that it turns out he would not be able to clean up his hamster's poop after all, because it was making him throw up. "I'm not doing it for you," I reminded him. "So you better get used to it."

So here we are, less than 24-hours in, and the reality of pet ownership has set in.

But that's ok. Because caring for another being like a hamster (or kids) often means doing things you don't really want to do, like cleaning up poop (or getting your kids a pet).

But in the end, the little inconveniences of being a pet owner -- or a parent -- are no match for the joy that comes with it.

If you enjoyed this post, follow @redhens and leave a comment. You may also enjoy some of my previous posts:

• Celebrating the beauty of Mother Earth
• The end to human hibernation
• Motivation begets motivation