I just hung my husband’s britches on the clothesline. He hates when I do that, because his jeans dry crispy and feel strange to wear. But, I like the energy-savings, so it is one little thing he suffers through.
And there are things I have to deal with, as well. Take this cat on the right of you. Did I want her? No. Did somebody find her stuck in a grain bin as a kitty and see the need to rescue her? Yes.
See, her life would have been toast when tons of corn engulfed and suffocated her. But he took her out, brought her to safety, and went on to work. Most farm cats are too wild to even hold, but she was young enough. The next day, however, she was back. Apparently he thought this was meant to be, and brought her to our place.
But Kitty (cats and dogs are not equal status in this house, so kitty is just ‘Kitty’ … at least it’s capitalized, right?) is not the first sign of my husband’s secret soft spot for cute furry animals (besides raccoons, rabbits, tomcats, possums, anything with horns, etc., in which I say ‘good luck’).
From left to right:
- Velvet – big black lab, husband’s first dog. She’s a good farm dog. I call her The Nanny, because she takes great care of my pups.
- Tobi – I love this dog. My husband bought her for me as Christmas gift.
- Milo – preparing to potty on plants after bath. We (he) bought him so Tobi wasn’t alone.
- Kitty – you know this one.
- Bobo – we (he) thought, hey, let’s have a litter of pups. That should be fun. No, it isn’t and wasn’t and now Milo is a lesser version of his original self and we have Bobo to show for it. The idea was to sell them since Yorkies are costly. And in the end, we kept one.
So, there you have it. Our little family of pets. And in case you stumble upon this and think, “this is despicable, how do they all get equal attention? Surely they mustn’t!” I assure you they do. Except the cat, because, well, she’s just a cat.