In October 1999, I was seven years old and experiencing my first genuine existential crisis. The world had, without warning, revealed a gap between what existed and what should exist — a gap of precisely 151 species. Pokémon Red had arrived in Europe, and I had played it, and nothing in the real world compared.
I begged for a turtle (Bowser). Then a hairless cat (Van Wrinkle). Then an iguana (Godzilla). None of these happened. What eventually happened, twenty-odd years later, was a Great Dane named Odin, who drools on everything, has no awareness of his own size, and would be diplomatically destroyed by even a moderately motivated Spearrow. I love him completely. But I still think about the Pokémon.
The Case For Pokémon as Pets (Genuinely Considered)
Let's take this seriously for a moment. The advantages are real. Free healthcare at every Pokémon Centre — no appointment, no waiting room, no bill at the end. My Great Dane's last surgery (eye surgery; he ran into a stick) required six hours on the table and five follow-up appointments, during which he wore a cone of shame that doubles as a weapon against my shins. A Pokémon Centre would have sorted this in fifteen seconds.
There's also the matter of abilities. Slowbro can use Calm Mind. Jigglypuff can sing you to sleep. Primeape can use Bulk Up, which is functionally a gym session you don't have to motivate yourself to attend. My dog's equivalent contributions are: drooling, and occasionally sitting on my feet to keep them warm. Noble, but limited.
Which Pokémon would you actually want as a real-world pet?
The Case Against (Also Genuinely Considered)
Charmander's tail is permanently on fire and must remain so or he dies. This is not a metaphor. This is a fire hazard living in your home. My contents insurance does not cover this. My insurance company and I have a relationship based on mutual distrust and a long-running argument about whether "damage caused by pets" extends to a dog eating an AirPod, and I do not want to introduce a literal flame-tailed lizard into that dynamic.
There is also the feeding question. Research on animal nutrition scales fairly predictably with body mass. Snorlax weighs 460kg. I do not want to find out what feeding a 460kg creature costs monthly, but I suspect it would consume my entire disposable income with enough left over to develop a strong opinion about it.
Onix is a 210kg chain of boulders that gets excited. An excited Onix in a flat is not something I want to experience. The structural damage alone.
The honest truth: Research on human-animal bonding (including work published in Frontiers in Psychology on the oxytocin effects of pet ownership) consistently shows that companion animals reduce cortisol, lower blood pressure, and reduce loneliness. Odin does all of this. He also eats things he shouldn't and costs a fortune. Pokémon would do the same, scaled up considerably.
What I Actually Want
I want both. I want Odin — seventy-seven kilograms of unconditional love with questionable judgement — and I want a Growlithe walking around my garden. Is this too much to ask? It is one dog and one fire puppy. I have the space. I have thought about it extensively.
Until the interdimensional rift opens, I'll keep feeding Odin, paying his vet bills, and occasionally picking up his toys from around the flat while imagining a world where he could just Hyper Beam the mess away.
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