|Cat-sitting success, Lindsey's baby Cali...|
I had that dream again. I wasn’t falling. I wasn’t dying. I wasn’t at my high school reunion dressed awkwardly in a tux drinking
(that was Tuesday). No, it was that dream where I became a father. My child? A young red tabby cat. Champagne
It’s an all-too-recurrent dream of mine. I want a cat. Well, actually, I think I want a dog, but I can’t leave a dog along for a day without paying the price. I always grew up with dogs, rabbits, turtles, sea monkeys, birds, fish. We had animals everywhere in the house, and even outside. One summer we decided to set my brother digging in the backyard resulting in an aquatic garden, an ornamental pond full of tadpoles and koi. The large golden fish were beautiful, and apparently very tasty to the endangered blue heron that they attracted to our backyard…
Though as long as I can remember, while the puppies ran around the house chewing shoes and the parakeets squalked in their cages, I had a stuffed reddish-orange cat that at one point lost an eye. No one in the family wanted a kitten. Cats are off-standish, unaffectionate, unfriendly. Who needs that when you have a gushing, slobbering dog on the couch just yearning to be pet? So I kept my plush cycloptic cat hidden safely in my room, never manifesting any real desire for a kitten. While raised a dog person, I think I may be a closeted cat person. Sorry, Mom.