I have no clue where that dream came from. Usually I can root out the external influences to my dreams, but this one has me dumbfounded.
Today #2 talked me into taking him around to a few stores to look at roses and what kinds of prices he will need to prepare for. While out, he convinced me to swing by PetCo. I emphasized that we were NOT buying a pet, and he agreed that he was only looking. Of course once in there he began his campaign to buy him a pet. He focused on rats, turtles and lizards. He couldn’t understand why I laughed at him. We left the pet store empty handed, with #2 continuing to give me his sales pitch on getting another pet.
Ain’t gonna happen kiddo!
It rather reminds me of a stunt I pulled when I was a little younger than he is now. I wanted a cat. More accurately, I wanted one of the kittens that my best friend’s “Mama-Kitty” had recently delivered on a pile of laundry in her bedroom closet.
I knew that there was no way my Mom would let me have a cat. I knew that (at the time) there was no way my Mom would let me have any pet. So, I conceived of a plan so diabolical, that my Mom would have no choice other than to let me have a cat. I told her that we had mice in our house.
From time to time I would scream and drop something (usually not anything breakable), and after the second or third time I had done this, I asked Mom if we could get a cat to catch the mice.
She said no.
All my well laid plans were out the window. My anticipation and excitement over the prospect of a new pet kitty were dashed.
It wasn’t for another couple years, after no one else had seen any mice in the house, that Mom figured out what I had been trying to do. Of course by that time, Dad had convinced her that we should have a dog, and the Springer Spaniel we selected was to be the best pet we could hope for.