Meet Goober. My son found her “in his friend’s dog’s mouth”. What was he supposed to do? Just leave her there? I was completely against this. I have allergies. I have asthma. I cough and wheeze all day long without any pets in the house.
Besides, history has proven that responsibility is not one of my son’s strong suits. I have no interest in caring for a cat (cute or not), especially when by next summer he (my son) will be heading off to college (God and finances willing) or (if he has his way) to the military. He brings her home and I spend the next 13 years caring for a cat I DON”T want.
So…guess who has a cat? Guess who is taking care of the cat? Guess who spends her days with her head under her son’s bed coaxing the elusive little critter out into the open? Yup. Some call me Mom, but you can call me SUCKER. I have fallen in love with this fur ball who won’t give me the time of day. Perhaps even young animals can sense my neediness! Does my constant desire to snuggle this little thing scream “desperate for love in any form”? My son pays her no attention and she crawls up into his lap. I jump through hoops for this little bugger, check on her constantly, worry if she feels lonely, try to play, give her Reiki, refresh her water and she runs under the bed. I’m starting to see a pattern here. The same thing happened with my ex.
Fine. I’ll pretend I don’t care. I’ll be completely indifferent to her presence and maybe she’ll brush up against my foot sometime soon.
I’m getting myself a stuffed animal. (That statement was in no way a threat to Goober.)
