I don't mean family pet as a child, I mean the first pet that you got for yourself as an (almost) adult.
Mine, unsurprisingly, was a cat. But not just any cat.
I went to the animal shelter to get one, since they had an abundance. It didn't take long for me to pick out a playful grey-white cat that was about one or two.
As I was beginning the adoption process I was chatting with the girl and I asked about an ancient looking black cat I had seen. I wondered if it was hard for them to find homes for old cats.
Turns out that cat had been cursed. He wasn't old when he had arrived, but he was black. I almost laughed, but it's actually true. People don't like to adopt black cats due to superstition I assume.
That cat had been there for over a decade. Now that he was both black and old, the staff had given up on him getting adopted.
I felt so bad for him, that I bailed on the grey-white and took the old black one.
He bit me. Often.
He was sick and required costly vet attention.
He would, at best, aim in the general direction of the litterbox. But usually missed.
But he was happy. I'm not sure that I was, but that didn't bother him.
He died about three months after I got him. He went out purring though.
He must have had an impact on me, I've been going from one abusive cat relationship to another, ever since.
I had a bearded dragon called Riker. He grew a lump and died.