I'd have a pet Deathclaw.
Seriously, imagine it. Waking up every morning to see its adorable little face, crooning and purring in contentedness at the end of your bed, curled up in a near little ball. Then you'd go downstairs, it'd hop off of the bed excitedly, nuzzling against you as you put down a slab of meat for it in the kitchen, watching with a slight smile as it croons away and devours the meat. Then, you'd sit down on the sofa with your bowl of cereal, and your Deathclaw would hop once more into your lap, curl up, and allow you to scratch under its chin.
No, wait. That's a cat. I have one of them. Nevermind.
(But I'd really, really want a pet bear.)
Seriously, imagine it. Waking up every morning to see its adorable little face, crooning and purring in contentedness at the end of your bed, curled up in a near little ball. Then you'd go downstairs, it'd hop off of the bed excitedly, nuzzling against you as you put down a slab of meat for it in the kitchen, watching with a slight smile as it croons away and devours the meat. Then, you'd sit down on the sofa with your bowl of cereal, and your Deathclaw would hop once more into your lap, curl up, and allow you to scratch under its chin.
No, wait. That's a cat. I have one of them. Nevermind.
(But I'd really, really want a pet bear.)