I had the pleasure of attending a Girls’ Night Out with five awesome ladies recently.

We got dolled up, left our kids with our better halves (hahaha), and gathered around good food and good conversation. I don’t know how we got on the topic of pets, but I thought I’d take this opportunity to share with you my theory on non-human housemates. It has served me well as my kids start to ask for a fish, a snake, a turtle, a hamster, et cetera.

Here is the golden rule on which I have based my pet life:

If it doodies in the house, it doesn’t live here.

The one notable exception to this rule is toddlers. My two year old pooped on the floor this very morning, but it would be callous of me to evict her at this point. Where would she go? She couldn’t find an apartment because she lacks references.

Who is going to vouch for a floor-pooper?

For the other members of the animal kingdom, I stand firm.

Dogs are superior to other pets for a variety of reasons.

Personality points? Dogs win every time.

Home protection? I’d like to see a guinea pig try to scare off an intruder.

Loyalty and affection? There’s a reason there are so many cat memes about the felines plotting the overthrow of their masters. They’re devious, self-important, and aloof. I don’t need another creature like that in my house. My kids will be teenagers soon enough.

These qualities alone would land canines highest in the pet rankings. But on top of all this, there is the fact that they have the decency to do their business outdoors.

I was recently at my brother’s house. He is the proud owner of a parrot. (Well, technically it’s my niece’s parrot, but my brother DOES spend a lot of time with this bird, plus he’s always wanted to be a pirate.) One of my kids asked if we could get a bird.

“Where does a bird poop?” I asked rhetorically.

My brother, thinking he had me cornered, proudly volunteered, “Actually, Auggie poops on command. Watch this.” With the bird perched on his finger, he extended his hand over his trash can and commenced the birdie speak. “Go poo-poos!” he coaxed. (This an over-6-feet-tall firefighter, for the record, folks.) “Go poo-poos!” To my astonishment, the bird actually pooped into the trash. Two minutes later, he went again…on the floor.

So I’ll stick with my ball-fetching, hand-nuzzling, burglar-scaring, outdoor-defecating pet.

Maybe my preference for a low-maintenance animal says something about me. Perhaps my brother with his quasi-house-trained companion is a more patient and tolerant person. Perhaps my sister, a multi-species pet mom, is just way more fun than I am. She currently houses three fish, a Great Dane, a boa constrictor, AND that constrictor’s living dinner. (Remind me not to tell you about the time the mouse on death row GAVE BIRTH before being devoured.)

Then there were my friend’s turtles who were mysteriously abducted from their backyard enclosure. Who could have done such a thing? Ravenous raccoons or turtle-crazed neighbors? You be the judge.

Or the guinea pigs whose gender couldn’t be determined, so they kept reproducing at a rapid rate. No thank you.

No, I’ll keep my “No pets that poo inside” rule firmly in place.

I’m a big fan of rules, and this one has served our family well. Not to say that our dog is always a walk in the park either. For some reason, he has decided to eat all of our two year old’s shoes. Maybe, like me, he’s annoyed that she poops in the house.