Edgy Mama

So much for literature, writing, and politics–this is becoming the…pet blog. So, we still have the dog. And we still want to re-home him (the pc term).

Enviro-spouse is pet-challenged. He is one of those strange humans who grew up with minimal pettage and didn’t seem to mind. When my now-deceased cranky cat, Gatsby, first moved in with us, he was met with disdain from enviro-spouse. “I don’t get it,” ES would say. “I’m petting the cat and, with no warning, he bites me!”

Several months after Gatsby bit more than the hand that fed him (I still have his ashes in a little box in the kitchen. Is that weird?), I went on a girl’s weekend with my friend, Nancy. The goal was to wean my 21-month-old son. As a distraction, I returned home with two six-week-old orange tabby kittens (”Nurse, Mommy, nurse.” “Oh, look at the kitties!”). String was my friend. Enviro-spouse was furious. But they were soooo damn cute. And soooo distracting. It was, I must say, an unusual, but brilliant, weaning technique.

Now said kittens are full grown cats. Rocky, aptly named, is an overweight slob and an excellent hunter. He loves people and has that laid-back, I-can-throw-my-weight-around personality. Since the dog came, Rocky has spent most of his time in the basement. He doesn’t want to get too far away from his food bowl.

Houdini, the smaller, swifter and more skittish of the two cats, has taken the bolder prerogative of moving in with a family down the street. He still comes home to eat and, occasionally, to sleep, but his visits are circumspect and stealthy. Houdini wants nothing to do with the dog.

So, a couple of nights ago, I managed to banish the dog to the screen porch and, for the first time in weeks, both cats were in the master bedroom, curled up at the foot of our bed.

“I love our cats,” said Enviro-spouse.

“What?” I replied.

“I love our cats. They’re the greatest pets ever.”

I burst out laughing. Ahhhh, perspective.