Invisible pets
Some children have invisible friends; I had invisible pets. I also had real pets, which included everything from hawk moths and stick insects, through a wide swathe of the rodent Order (mice, rats, hamsters—-Russian and Syrian—-and gerbils), cats, zebra finches, a cockatiel, fish and a number of injured or orphaned wild birds that people brought to us. However, I knew that my folks would put their parental feet down if I were to ask for a tiger or an otter—-it was so unfair!
As a result I kept some invisible pets when I was little which included an otter, a Siberian tiger (I was very specific about this—-none of your common or garden Bengal tigers for me, oh no), a golden eagle and a goshawk. I’ve never really spoken to anyone who would admit to having an invisible friend, so I don’t know if children actually believe that these characters are real. I certainly never believed that my invisible pets were real, but I imagined them in extraordinarily clear and vivid detail, to the point where I could almost feel and see them.
When I first read Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, his concept of every human in Lyra’s world having an animal-formed daemon was instantly familiar. In his stories, children’s daemons change form all time, taking the shape of an animal appropriate to the mood or circumstances of the child. Similarly, my different ‘pets’ would accompany me at different times. When I was in a playful, energetic mood, my otter would skitter and swirl alongside me, twisting and turning and whistling its high sharp calls. On long car journeys, I would release my goshawk from my fist through the open car window, and would watch it flick effortlessly through the trees in woodland beside the road. I think now that this was a way of having a kind of limitless freedom while I was stuck in the car and bored. Eventually, I would call the goshawk back to my hand where it would sit, streamlining its shape in the wind roaring past it, and gripping my fingers with its strong feet. I was quite a shy child, and there was nothing quite as confidence-building as imagining a Siberian tiger pacing alongside you when you were a bit unsure of yourself. It would walk close by my side, occasionally butting its huge head against my ribs, and I would curl my fingers in the rough fur of its neck. The golden eagle was much more aloof, but I would sometimes see it soaring and circling high above me.
Oddly, I never gave any of these invisible pets names. Nor did I really anthropomorphise them, except to the extent that the tiger was kind enough not to maul me, and the otter didn’t bite off my fingers as one did to Terry Nutkins.
Was I (am I) just really odd, or did other people have invisible animal companions when they were kids?
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Most of us in my class at school believed in a little critter that lived in the wastepaper bin in our French master's class. I can certainly recall conversations about it. I've also had a conversation going on inside my head with another part of my self as long as I can remember. It's not me but another me and to be honest I've always thought of myself as strictly normal. But many people tell me I'm not. ----- I never did, but having read about yours I really wish I'd had an invisible tiger to give me confidence when I was younger
by Cathy @ 08/06/2005 7:07 pm • Permalink •
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I'm with jb on the invisible me that I sometimes have conversations with. Not out loud, of course. That would be crazy.
Well, maybe sometimes out loud. But not often.
I never had invisible friends or pets, but my little brother had an invisible dog named "Roy." He would even feed it and water it.
And my girlfriend. She had not just an invisible friend, but instead when she was a child she had an invisible class. Her parents talk about how every mundane trip with ther (say, to the grocery store) was a veritable field trip as she herded her invisible students across streets and parking lots.
Maybe I shouldn't admit to any of these things.
by Nathan Ladd @ 09/06/2005 12:07 am • Permalink •
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What's a good name for an invisible tiger? Perhaps there isn't one. The Barefoot Doctor recommends having an invisible dog. You can go down to the park looking like a dog owner (carry lead? plastic bag?), shout some bizarre name over and over again at the top of your voice and noone will look askance at you. The shouting is apparently therapeutic...
by pete @ 09/06/2005 6:06 am • Permalink •
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I had an invisible pet after I grew up. In fact, I still do. She's a black panther. Full of style, pizzazz and aggression. Mauls people I don't like and slinks away cattily when you don't pay her attention. And this probably came out of my need to check my temper when I was younger. I used to throw television sets at people - now I just mentally tell my panther to attack. I have visions of offending blood spurting in dark red jets.
Oh dear, that does make me sound psychopathic doesn't it?
I'm really a very nice person and completely sane.
by Wolfe @ 09/06/2005 12:06 pm • Permalink •
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Fake pets, no, but I'd take that as absolutely normal. I used to think aloud, speaking to myself until I got to an age where I realized it is socially unacceptable.
For me, explaining stuff is, even today, the best way of organizing my ideas. I imagine that if people speaking alone weren't taken as nutcracks, I'd still explaining problems aloud to myself in order to get a second opinion
Since I can't, I usually grab some innocent bystander, explain something he/she doesn't understand and get to a solution all by myself. I call these thinking walls
by Sérgio Carvalho @ 09/06/2005 12:07 pm • Permalink •
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jb: Wow---a communal invisible friend!
Cathy: I could really do with having him back when walking through the city at night.
Nathan Ladd (and jb and Sérgio Carvalho): I think that a lot of people probably have conversations with themselves at one time or another, particularly at times of stress. Sérgio, you sound like you have a one-man Socratic dialogue going there. Very impressive!
pete: Well, quite. Tiger, perhaps. I quite like the idea of yelling at an imaginary dog---and no poop to scoop, either.
Wolfe: I'm sure you are (mental note: be very nice to Wolfe's panther. Bring small mammals to distract her.) Does she have a name, or is she nameless like my tiger?
Sérgio: I agree totally. Having to explain something to someone else, out loud, is an excellent way to understand it yourself. Or realise that you don't understand it.
by bsag @ 09/06/2005 8:06 pm • Permalink •
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I never had any invisible friends or pets as a child, but so many people I know admit that they did. I think my lack of invisible friends makes me the odd one out.
As a grownup, however, I have several invisible boyfriends, with extraordinarily detailed backstories. And yes, I talk to them. Please don't tell my husband. LOL!
by Mushlette @ 09/06/2005 9:06 pm • Permalink •
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I've never had any pets, hence the invisible dog.
by Clair @ 10/06/2005 7:07 am • Permalink •
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Hmm, very interestink. This thread seems to have generated more response than other recent topics.
by Jonathan Briggs @ 10/06/2005 10:07 am • Permalink •
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I don't remember having invisible pets, but in my experience most young children are very aware of what is real and what is make-believe, more than some adults I know...
Ian
by ijw @ 10/06/2005 12:06 pm • Permalink •
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This comment is invisi...
by ThoughtBadger @ 11/06/2005 6:07 am • Permalink •
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Naw, wouldn't dare to name her. That may seem demeaning and she might come after me. Small mammals are a good idea though. She could do with some playthings.
You've got a very nice blog. And I especially like the clean strong look.
by Wolfe @ 11/06/2005 12:06 pm • Permalink •
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"invisible tiger" sounds like something...
by cheap @ 16/09/2005 6:10 am • Permalink •
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