Cat on the island

I've lived in three different residences in the past six months, and in each place I've shared my space with a cat or dog. They haven't been my pets-they've always been in the house when I arrived, and I've marveled at my roommates' desire to share their home with an animal. Besides not wanting to smell like kitty litter or get dog slobber on my face, I've never wanted a pet because I don't have the desire to be responsible for another living thing for an extended period of time. I had a plant freshman year. It's dead. I learned my lesson.

This phenomenon of seniors moving off-campus and adopting animals initially confused me. We already have to think of some way to put food in our bellies without running over to the Loop; why worry about some other animal's belly? A lot of us can barely remember to take out the trash; why would we want to take out the kitty litter? When we make plans for Spring Break, do we really want to make plans for our pets, too? That was the downfall of my potted plant freshman year: apparently they still need water when classes aren't in session. Who knew?

Of course, as a senior I am infinitely more mature and could probably keep a house plant for more than three months. If I put my mind to it, I could probably even keep a cat alive for a year. The tricky thing is, cats live for longer than a year (if fed and watered properly, of course). When seniors adopt pets, they're signing up for at least 10 years of having to rent apartments that allow animals, making sure someone can dog-sit when they go on vacation and never being able to wear an outfit that doesn't have some trace of cat hair. There are a handful of irresponsible kids who don't plan for their pets' future and wind up abandoning them in Durham, but many more students are actually making the 10-year commitment.

Despite all this extra responsibility, a surprising number of Duke seniors have pets. I didn't really understand it until I came home late the other night and my roommate's kitten had already gone to bed. Instead of playing the timeless "chase my fingers across the rug" game or wasting precious minutes absent-mindedly petting the kitty, I walked sadly to my desk and actually got some homework done. It was awful. But it made me understand why people have pets.

If cats and dogs make our off-campus apartments and houses feel like homes, it makes perfect sense that so many Dukies are pet owners. A lot of Duke students spend their junior year bouncing from one place to another. We spend a semester abroad, then a semester in Durham, and then the summer in some city working an internship. Of course we're going to be looking for some sense of home after spending a year basically living out of a suitcase.

Switching from dorm life to off-campus apartments and houses is also a huge shift. Living in the dorms is such a community-intensive experience that living off-campus can feel like living on an island. Something about having a cat on that island makes the fact that you can't walk three feet and be at a huge party not matter very much. I've joked with a handful of my friends about how we've gotten "old and lame," but maybe it isn't really a joke.

As hard as it is for me admit, evidence that we can handle the responsibility of a pet abounds. My peers are paying rent, preparing for job interviews and producing some really original academic work. Next semester, one of my friends will actually be teaching middle school.

Not only do I think we're ready for pets, I think we deserve them-or at least the sense of home they provide. Sure, we could still out-party the freshmen if we tried, but I see most of my fellow seniors working incredibly hard this year doing amazing things. Getting a pet as a senior may not be a sign of thoughtlessness or poor planning, as I first assumed. Perhaps it's a sign that my little Class of '08 is growing up.