My parents are getting a dog, and honestly, that makes me sad. Not because I don’t love dogs - I do.
In fact growing up, I dreamed of the day that we could adopt a furry friend into the family.
But now that it’s finally happening, I find myself reflecting on what getting a pet means to me. 

I’ve always loved the way pets seem to bring people together.  From a young age, I sensed that the comfort a creature, simple and unconditional in its love, could bring was something I wanted for myself. Unfortunately my family’s life, and my own since leaving home at 18, has never been conducive to having a dog. My parents are both former teachers who, whilst based in Germany, regularly found work abroad. We moved between Germany, Malaysia, China, staying in one place for a maximum of four years. After high school, I relocated to England for university. My parents, who both had grown up with dogs in the house, maintained (rightly) that it wouldn’t be fair to the animal if we were constantly changing its environment. We’ll get a dog when we settle down, they always said. But the eagerness for change and new experiences always overrode the desire to properly put down roots somewhere. This feeling is something that has followed me as I’ve grown up and made my own life outside of my family home. 

Lately, I’ve seen the term ‘Third Culture Kid’ (coined by sociologist Ruth Hill Useem) being used more widely to describe people “who were raised in a culture other than their parents' or the culture of their country of nationality, and also live in a different environment during a significant part of their child development years.” Psychological research into adult TCKs has often found that many struggle to settle down after being used to treating their environments as temporary. They are also less likely to have grown up with family pets and, I’d hazard a guess, to have ones in later life. Don’t get me wrong - I feel very grateful to fall into the category of TCKs. It is an enormous privilege to have had such access to different parts of the world and to be exposed to diverse cultures from a young age. It has definitely, however, had a big effect on how I prioritise my life and how I feel about big decisions that indicate permanence - like buying a house or getting a pet. 

I’m aware that this might sound a lot more dramatic than it is - not having had a pet is in no way the end of the world, and I know that if I really wanted one I could make it work. Rather than lamenting on any missed experiences, I’m just noticing how the idea of having a pet has become synonymous with giving up a part of my identity. It has made me realise how important mobility is to me, as well as the difficulties and privileges that come with it. During this pandemic, as the ability to travel and make plans has been removed, I (and many others) have had to learn to be okay with just being where I am for the moment. This period has really spurred thoughts of what I want from home, of what kind of permanent surroundings I want to build for myself. Having an animal around is certainly a part of that for me.

Although I know that at 25 I’m still young, I do wonder whether I’ll eventually settle down somewhere or whether I’ll always be on the lookout for distant shores. As I watch some of my friends buying houses and getting engaged, I sometimes worry about how far removed their reality seems from mine. And for some reason, it’s always the topic of pets that brings to head my conflicting feelings of what I want out of life. Although it is not always at the forefront of my mind, there is always a feeling of restlessness in the background. I have now lived in England for seven years, and I distinctly remember in my fifth year there feeling not necessarily that I wanted to leave, but that I should. I’d never stayed anywhere for more than four years, and the thought of spending any longer in one country (even though I moved across different cities) felt way too serious - it felt like I was properly settling down. Like I could probably get a cat. I think that’s the conflict that is always simmering away in the background: simultaneously feeling the pull towards properly putting down roots and the push towards finding somewhere new. In the end I decided to spend a year in Singapore and Germany before returning to England. Even though I eventually came back, it felt comforting to know that I still had the ability to leave. 

Now that my parents are both retired, they are finally seriously considering getting a dog. They have been looking online for hypoallergenic breeds, ones that don't shed too much. They’ve agreed that a middle-sized dog (“a dog that I can respect”, as my dad says) would be the best choice. On one hand, I’m so excited that my childhood dream might finally come true. On the other, it actually makes me feel quite melancholic. This marks the end of my parents' nomadic lifestyle, finally choosing to be more sedentary - although they still hope to travel. Yes, I will be happy to welcome a dog to our family, and at the same time it will be a bittersweet start to a new phase of my family’s life. Meanwhile, I’m preparing for a move to Berlin next month. In a way it feels good, like I’m finally getting to scratch that itch - but I also find myself wondering whether England could have been my home.