It happened again recently.  I awoke from some far away place (I seem to inhabit them more and more frequently as I age) and realized I had made a decision for which there is no good explanation.  (I tend to disregard the “crazy as a bedbug” line of reasoning, though perhaps I shouldn’t be so quick to toss it over the side as there is a direct genetic link between myself and a group from the Highlands of Scotland known as the “daft McFarlands”.  Seems the daft McFarlands were a clan that could never be counted on or counted out, their kilts blowing with whatever wind that expediency demanded.  The story I was told is that they were not a principled group, practical yes, principled, no.  So maybe I come by it honestly.)   

 Anyway, I am also a sucker for my kids, and alas, for their friends, especially their boyfriends. I never had sons so I view these young men as the boys I never had and tend to get attached to them.  Perhaps this is not such a good idea as my daughters are of an age that boys are like buses; another one will be along in about 20 minutes.  When one is young, smart and beautiful you can get away with that attitude. (Either that or the stop I am waiting at is definitely not on the main line.  But I digress.)

  We are a pet loving household as are many.  But what is important to know is that we are unable to select normal, happy go lucky pets.  Our pets are just strange. There was the kitty that lived in the floor joists-no one ever saw him.  The only time I ever saw him was hanging by his teeth from my then husband’s thumb. (In hind sight, kitty probably had it right.)  He had strayed into the yard and was not very receptive to the idea of being rescued.  We brought him into the house and he disappeared into the floor joists.  We never laid eyes on him again even though he lived with us for the better part of 13 years. 

  Then there is Helen (the model for my avatar) an eleven year old Jack Russell Terrier. Helen came to us as a gift from my veterinarian brother in law.  I keep thinking there is a special place in hell for the man for giving me such a freaked out, cranky, tightly wired, loud little dog. His idea of a joke I suppose.  She is very accident prone, falls off the couch, down the stairs, and runs into walls.  She has seizures and doesn’t see well but it doesn’t slow her down much, hence all the wall banging and thumping of her muscular little body down 13 steps from the second floor. (We have a cat that thinks it is amusing to ambush Helen when Helen is poised on the top step.  Helen is terrified of the cat. Personally I think the cat just likes to watch her bounce down a flight of stairs.) 

  Our third pet is a Labrador something or another.  He is a loud, smelly and incredibly happy dog.  He is an exceedingly large Labrador-methinks there may be some Danish in his blood line, being rather Marmadukish in his characteristics.  He is not normal either, barking at birds in the sky, paper blowing across the street, and gleefully chasing anything that will run away from him. He is an escape artist loving nothing more than running over whoever happens to be in the doorway, galloping down the middle of the road with me behind, panting, cursing, and yelling every four letter word I can think of until I am out of breath. We have stopped traffic with this jailbreak more than once.  He even knocked over and ran down my oldest daughter’s football player (college middle linebacker) boyfriend who got a little too confident of his ability to block the escape hatch to the outside.

  Welcome to my life.  It's a circus.

 Okay so, back to my earlier point involving being such a sucker for my kids and their boys.  The point of view taken by my daughters is that if three pets are good, four or more must be even better.  I myself would like to try the quality VS quantity approach thinking age will provide some culling of the herd. (Did I mention that I also seem to acquire animals that live to extra ordinary old ages? I once had a cat that lived to be 22 for God’s sake.)  I then point out that both of them will be living at college and who will be the one living with and cleaning up dog and cat yak and worse?  Moi, of course. 

  So I was adamant in my refusal when my girls have wanted a puppy from the litter belonging to a good friend.  I told my older daughter “no” when she asked to bring home a stray kitty that she had found wandering around her college campus.  I have been firm, I have been strong. I have never wavered in my resolve to keep the pet population from increasing in my house.

 And then one night not so long ago my cute younger daughter, the one with the dimples showed up with her equally cute (now ex) boyfriend.  In his arms was a kitten.  A very tiny kitten; that he had heard (fortunately) and found hiding between his tire and his fender. So this very cute, sweet boy asked if he could give my daughter the kitten. 

“Of course not, we don’t need a kitten,” I stated in no uncertain terms.  (kitty mewed)  My daughter made her dimples do what dimples do.  “Puleeeesssse, Mom.  She will have to go to the Humane Society if we don’t take her.” (kitty mews)

  “I’d really like to give her this kitty. She’s a good kitten.”  Earnest head bobs from cute boyfriend. 

 “Nope, no more pets, you daughter dear, leave for college at the end of the summer.”

  My daughter looked at me with pleading eyes.  Kitty looked at me and mewed.  Then  boyfriend looked at me with his pleading, blue/green like limpid pools eyes.  Three pairs of eyes; all begging me to say yes to the kitty.

  I caved.  I crumpled like a house of cards, fell off the wagon.  I let him give her the kitten.   Two hundred dollars later (it seems kitty had every worm known to mankind) (you would think my brother in law would allow me some kind of family discount)(maybe that is why he owns his home and I have a mortgage) we have a healthy normal kitten.  She is social (which my big cat is not) chases the dogs and makes us laugh. She attacks our bare feet, and stalks and hunts like a lioness.  In my ‘what was I thinking’ weak moment I accepted something that I now have come to believe will be a great gift to our lives.  She no doubt will be a lively companion when both my daughters are at school next year.  I will remember the boy who gave her to us with great fondness as I suspect will my youngest daughter.  So yeah, what was I thinking?  Probably nothing and for once I am glad.