WE must support our zoos which get a bad press sometimes, accused of animal exploitation.

They more than make up for keeping wild animals in captivity with their global conservation schemes. And if I were a springbok I'd cheerfully swap the plains of Africa for the safety of a zoo.

Australians are a great nation of animal lovers; 87 per cent of Australians have a pet of some sort. When we talk about pets we mean dogs and cats, birds and fish and "others" which include hamsters, guinea pigs, rabbits and the more exotic small creatures such as snakes, ferrets, scorpions and even snails.

A friend once had a pet snail that lived in a china dish on the dining-room table and was a great icebreaker at dinner parties. The snail is a spiral of contrasts with head on foot, heart in stomach and a penis where his brain ought to be. Actually he doesn't have a brain, only a nub of nerves called a ganglia. And if you remember your school biology he isn't actually a he, either.

Would you call someone who likes snails as pets a gastropodophile – or is that someone who eats children?

Goldfish have the numbers, followed by birds and "others" bring up the rear. Watching goldfish is apparently both fascinating and therapeutic; well, each to his own. A passing acquaintance in the dentist's waiting room, where they toothlessly nudge the glass, sends only one message to the human brain. This is what will happen if you don't floss.

Goldfish have hearing so acute even a slight greeting tap on their bowl is like taking them to a rave where the bass is up full volume and then standing them next to a pneumatic drill.

Spiders flirted with popularity, petwise, in the '90s but, warns the petshop man, spiders dread being picked up and when caressed will shed all the hair on their backs, so most pet spiders are completely bald.

You can't get too emotional about a spider, goldfish or snail, and we have long loved our cats and dogs who have been domesticated for yonks – since 1911 the use of dogs to pull carts on highways has been banned in Australia. But there must be a case to be built about not having small undomesticated animals as household pets. Let them be, or limit them to the zoo where their accommodation bears a strong resemblance to their natural habitat and they don't have to spend their lives in a cage with a wheel.

Psychologists say it is a myth that pets need children and children need pets; the absence of Peter rabbit or Fuzzy Wuzzy hamster has no effect on childhood development, so we should come to grips with the fact that we are wrong thinking that these small animals exist, just like Michael Jackson, to bring happiness to all the children in the world.

German researchers recently discovered that hamsters are anti-social, uninquisitive animals so frightened of humans that they almost have seizures when one comes near. Your pet hamster would rather live in a hole in the ground than running around your bedroom floor where it feels exposed and in fear of its life.

Guinea pigs are terribly shy and might get a shock and die if dropped; they are incredibly well-mannered and eat facing away from each other; they are the rodent equivalent of someone too embarrassed to eat spaghetti in an Italian restaurant.

Rabbits are the favourite at the Backyard to Bush exhibition at Sydney's Taronga Zoo; but, cautions Mr Zooman, having rabbits as home pets is another minefield. They like open spaces and get depressed if kept in a wire cage.

Not having these hapless animals in our houses would be a spur for going to the zoo, one of the treats that go with having children or grandchildren. It may sound silly but you feel vulnerable going there without small things tugging your hand and demanding to see the monkeys or the snakes.

"Get a life!" you can imagine people thinking, looking at you as though you are loitering with intent, It's like going to see a Harry Potter movie on your own.

In any case, children can learn a great many social skills by watching animals at play. Some years ago a young girl, now a magazine editor, was there with her father, a strict man ever-vigilant regarding his daughter's morals. Seeing a small crowd at the monkey cage, excitedly chattering, they rushed over. Two monkeys, oblivious to their audience, were at it. The father firmly grasped his daughter by her hand and led her swiftly away, and as he did, in a very loud voice, he said: "Those monkeys, Jodie, were married monkeys!"