I am an animal lover. I love all animals. I haven't met an animal yet that I don't like. I suppose I should qualify that. There are a few animals who belong to the human genus with whom I have a bit of antipathy. I try really hard to overcome these feelings but I'm not perfect, a fact that is pointed out to me on a regular basis by various and sundry members of my inner and outer circle of friends and family. But enough of that. My main premise is that I'm an animal lover. My husband is aware of this fact because we have been married for what is coming on to be our 25th year. I have two dogs who I bought not for their lineage but because I couldn't leave them in the situation where I found them. I strongly suspect that neither of my dogs' lineage paperwork would withstand close scrutiny. As I said, my husband is quite familiar with the workings of my mind. At least I thought this was true but I've noticed that sometimes he "forgets" how my mind works.
One of the few times he "forgot" was when we still lived in Oregon. One of our neighbors had a cat named Lucy. Although our neighbors owned Lucy, this cat wandered the neighborhood and spent a great deal of time sunning herself in one of the flowerpots by our front door. I want to point out that none of my family encouraged her. People in the neighborhood refered to Lucy as "the neighborhood cat" because as she wandered the neighborhood, she would meet and greet everyone she saw. One day, Lucy's owners sold their home, packed up all their belongings, and their cat Lucy, and moved away from the neighborhood. I was beginning to feel that it might be safe to again plant flowers in the flowerpots by my front door, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but Lucy....in my flowerpot. Oh my! After some doing, I discovered my former neighbors' new phone number and gave them a call to let them know that their cat was in my flowerpot. That afternoon, with many thanks, our former neighbors retrieved their cat....for the first time. The second time they came to retrieve Lucy, we were thanked again and an apology was given. I wasn't too sure that they were as thankful the third time they came to get Lucy. The fourth time they came to pick up their errant cat, they asked us if we'd like to own a cat. I'll be honest and tell you that we'd never owned a cat before so this was a big decision to make. All three of my children were hovering in the doorway as was my husband when this question was posed to us. Now I'll remind you that I told you that on occasion my husband "forgets" how my mind works and this case he "forgot" about my fanatical love for animals. He looked me right in the eye and said, "It's up to you honey." That is a word for word quote of what he said. Honest. On that day we became the proud new owners of Lucy (and I will always be grateful to our former neighbors for their generosity and understanding). Later that night, my husband moaned and complained that when he said, "It's up to you honey." he honestly expected, nay, wanted me to say, "No, of course we don't want a cat. I hate cats. We have two dogs. Why would we want a cat?" Gasp! How could he possibly have forgotten my love of animals? If it was up to me, we'd live on a farm and we'd own a multitude of animals. At that point, I patiently pointed out to him that if someone had come to the door with a horse, a milk cow, a goat, a wounded coyote, a dirty pigeon, or a rat, and asked me if I would like to own one of those, and he turned to me and said "It's up to you honey." We would be the proud new owners of a horse, a milk cow, a goat, a wounded coyote, a dirty pigeon, or a rat. He became much more accepting of our new cat. And I don't think he's ever said "It's up to you honey" again....unless he really means it. And I will tell you right now that we don't as yet own a horse, a milk cow, a goat, a wounded coyote, a dirty pigeon, or a rat. I could continue with this blog by telling you that my children have inherited my love for animals. It must be genetic. But this blog is already too long and the stories of unwanted litters of abandoned kittens in my daughter's closet will have to wait for a future blog.