The Initial Consultation

A team of vets will arrive in full hazmat suits and charge a "Temporal-Spatial Hazard Fee." During the exam, they will not touch the T-Rex. Instead, they will use advanced LiDAR to determine the dinosaur's true age (usually "extinct") and offer you a single piece of advice: "Run." The bill will be delivered via drone.

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2. Creating a Suitable Habitat

Your T-Rex needs a "large, secure outdoor enclosure." Let's be clear: "Secure" means replacing your adorable white picket fence with a reinforced concrete wall, razor wire, security cameras, and a perimeter-wide electric moat. Critical Warning: If you can hear your neighbor's TV from your enclosure, so can your T-Rex, who are particularly attracted to Shark Week on Discovery! This will cause a security breach.

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The "Indestructible" Toy
You will spend hundreds on stuffed toys. Your T-Rex will destroy them in milliseconds. The futility is almost beautiful. Instead, we recommend providing objects that are both large and expendable, such as a small, unmanned forklift or a decommissioned military tank. A truly enormous, brightly colored chew ball also works wonders.

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​Potty Training

Let's not mince words: this is a lost cause. For an animal of this size, the volume produced would fill a small swimming pool. Instead, invest in a bulldozer and the industrial-sized pooper scooper or consider selling your eco-friendly dino-dung to a local farmer. Check local ordinances first, but frankly, there's not much T-Rex poop rules on the books.
 

Managing Tiny Arms
The T-Rex is the poster child for upper-body frustration. To manage this, offer creative solutions. When they need something off a high shelf, use a yard rake. When they're feeling sad, resist the urge to pat them on the head—it's condescending. Instead, offer a supportive, deep-fried whole chicken.

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3. Training Fundamentals: Aim Low--The "Sit" Command
When your T-Rex successfully sits, reward them with a whole, still-warm cow. The trick is that most T-Rexes will immediately lie down and refuse to get up afterwards. They are now full, and the effort is simply too much. If you can get them to Stand after this, you are truly a jedi-master.

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The "Good Boy" Paradox
The phrase "Good Boy" is inherently confusing for an apex predator whose brain is dedicated primarily to hunting and eating. A T-Rex’s version of a "Good Boy" involves simply not eating the owner for a full 24 hours. Celebrate this small victory with the same enthusiasm you would a child graduating college.

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4. Public Life: Walks in the Park

Taking your T-Rex for a walk is a great way to "meet new people in Colusa," many of whom will be screaming, running, fainting, and/or calling 911.  Remember to use a chain leash rated for industrial towing, not your standard leather dog leash.

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Dining Out

This can be a bit tricky, especially when the "pet" is 40 feet long and views the cafe’s patio furniture as toys. Our advice, bring a large picnic basket containing several dozen goats and leave a humongous tip.

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Demolition Derby
A word to the wise: Resist the urge to enter your T-Rex into the annual County Fair Demolition Derby. Your T-Rex would, of course, win, but you'd spend the next month explaining to the Fair Board why the Grandstand is now a crater.

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 7. Support Groups (Pet-Friendly)

It’s important to address the mental health of both you and your prehistoric companion. However, taking your T-Rex to a "Pet-Friendly" support group is a delicate social maneuver. The group may allow small dogs, cats, or even the occasional emotional support turkey, but they did not factor in a 9-ton reptile. You'll find yourself discussing less about the emotional challenges of rural life and more about securing industrial-sized meat lockers and the crippling debt from replacing your neighbor's fence and barn.

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Closing Thoughts
The truth about having a T-Rex as a pet is that no matter how much you love them, and how many whole cows you feed them, and no matter how often you gently pet their enormous, scaly nose, a T-Rex is still a T-Rex. They may never love you back the way a dog can, but that's okay, because they're too busy being gigantic and totally awesome.

 

​​About the Author

The author is sober and a noted enthusiast of all things loud, chaotic, and undead (namely zombie flicks and the series the Walking Dead). The depth of logistical mayhem in this guide is drawn from the fact that she is, indeed, just crazy enough to buy a T-Rex—and would certainly attempt to house it in her one-bedroom apartment in Colusa.

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(The author's name is being withheld to protect her from local zoning and animal control authorities.)