I believe you could take away all of my son's toys and games, and as long as you left his animals, he'd be perfectly content. Some days I wonder if he would even notice.
But then, we have a lot of animals. Two dogs: Scout, an 85 pound German wire-haired pointer, acquired the month before we got married 7 years ago, and Lola, a 7 pound rat terrier "mix," foolishly acquired when Dixon was 6 months old. Scout, though huge, is well-trained because he was, in fact, our first child. Lola, neglected in her youth, got potty trained (sort of) after my son, at age 2. Now that they are both 3, we think we may survive.
We also have two cats (a Noah's ark theme). Our gray one was acquired around Halloween, earning her the name Halle. And then there is Chocolate, our black cat that my husband, in an attempt at irony, tried to name Milk. Our literal three year old said, "Daddy, if he is Milk, he must be Chocolate Milk." And of course it stuck.
Moving down in size, my son also has a red-eared slider named Tree "because he is green." The turtle previously shared the fish tank with a large goldfish, Stripey, who was recently donated to a neighbor with a very large fish pond and renamed Moby Dick. Apparently this made an impression, because today my son caught a small green caterpillar in the garden and also christened him after the great white whale. He promptly broke the leaves off several garden plants to "feed" his new pet - tasty revenge for every caterpillar who has ever resented a gardener for depriving it of a food supply.
Other summer pets have included "Becko the Gecko" and two large toads that he brought in to share dessert during my last dinner party.
And then, while leaving church this morning, he caught this
When he asked about a name, I said, "Call him Ishmael."