I scooted over to Becky's site to read over what she had to say so early in the morning and I was inspired to come back home and tell a little about the animals in our life.
For some reason, no matter how much I scream and protest, we always end up having at least one or more for me to have to look after. Down through the years there have been countless animals around this forty acres and the two domestic (more or less) ones we have presently are only the latest of those forced upon me while I was kicking and screaming.
I didn't mind when I was younger. In fact, little kittens and puppies were no more trouble than babies. We had them in the house on a regular basis . . . house and barn and garage . . . wherever there was a hole Mama Cat (we hand-picked the puppies) could find to use as a birthing spot. Kits, cats, sacks and wives. Ha. Sometimes I felt sort of like the old nursery rhyme.
Anyway . . . back to the present.
We are (at the moment) home to one beagle, a female. Millie lost her companion to the wheels of a truck several months ago on the highway not far from here so she prefers to stay at home now.
I am owned by ONE CAT. I no longer even remember how Bagheera managed to wriggle herself into our lives. I do know that I swore I would never have ANY MORE ANIMALS. And suddenly I had two more puppies and a kitten.
Don't ask me how it happened. When you have, in addition to a husband on the property, a daughter and two grandchildren, anything goes . . . or comes, as the case may be.
In this case, (and it has been a number of years now) once again it was animals.
Now, the very first thing I want in the morning is COFFEE (please note the capitals).
I stagger into the kitchen, where the floor-to-ceiling windows and door, un-curtained, are open to the wonderful world outdoors. This was arranged so that I could watch nature in a leisurely manner while waking slowly, happy.
And the first thing I see? A yowling cat on her hind legs. Her whole black body, in a frontal position with belly bulging, resembling some kind of enormous black bug, is plastered to the glass door. You would think from the noise that she hadn't been fed in a year.
It is so strange. I feel guilty if I cross the room in front of her and put my coffee on BEFORE I feed her. Sometimes, if I'm late rising, she will be looking in a different direction and I will creep across the floor and try to avoid being seen as I reach the sink. Then, AHA! I'm out of her sight path. I did it! I tricked her.
How foolish can you be? But that's the way it is when a household has pets.
Who owns whom? Who knows?