Legacy

My name is Gary, last name not mentioned to protect the guilty which is me, will maybe not so much.  This tale starts with the death of my cat.  He was eighteen years old, which is fantastic for a cat.  I had to have him mercifully put down.  I didn’t like that one bit.  It broke my heart as I held his head and he purred with complete trust as the lethal dose of barbiturate was administered.

It tears you apart to end the life of such an old friend who is purring with complete trust as he suddenly goes limp.  It was a necessity because apparently kidney failure had been at work for some time, which is why he went blind.  He coped with that unusually well for a couple of months, but then complete disorientation set in and it was obvious what had to be done.  The vet said that by the time the symptoms present themselves its pretty much an irreversible situation. Still?

I grieved of course, and thought being as I’m such a cat person that I’d go ahead and get a kitten and start a new cat man relationship.  That idea hit a big snag, namely my wife who made it plain that at least for the time being and foreseeable future I could forget it.  Her rationale was I didn’t keep the litter box cleaned with enough frequency,  she was tired of having to be the one going down the stairs to the basement to let him up five mornings out of seven.  And then there was that darn cat hair thingy.

I pleaded that I’d get a short haired cat and  keep the liter box better, and do all the going down and letting the cat up in the mornings.  I must not have projected sufficient sincerity because that got me no where.  Being retired and all I need a little critter to heap love on and have it returned.  Helps get one through the day.  Some alluding to get a Hamster almost tempted me to do so, but I didn’t.  I think in larger terms, even though they are cute and cuddly.

I even asked my youngest son who lives three hundred miles away to pray with me for some mean person to abandon a kitten on my front yard, thus forcing the issue.  I also jokingly told him not to let his mom my wife find out if the prayer was successful as she might kill us both.  She found out about the request and was only half amused.

So now if dreams come true and sometimes they do, then the one I had last night was very, very interesting.  Now we all know the Lord works in mysterious ways, so I’m waiting to see what happens next.  Anyway, the dream went like this..  I came out of Wal-Mart after doing some shopping, when I got to my car there was a shopping cart next to it.  The cart had occupants.

Namely a miniature female Boston Bull black and white terrier, a young female cat, I’d judge about a year old. She was short haired and as plain as can be.  A non -descript darker striped gray tabby.  She did obviously have personality, in spite of her plain looks.  With those two who obviously were soul mates was a box with a little speckled Banty  Hen and seven little yellow balls of fuzz.  Those chicks weren’t any bigger than a golf ball.

The little Boston Bull terrier had a note tied to her collar.  It said, my name is John, I’m all alone except for these my dear friends.  I’m 98 years old and going into the hospital tomorrow for a very serious operation.  I will not likely survive, but if I do it will be instant Nursing Home.  I have no one to give my friends to and rather than take them to the animal shelter which is usually a death sentence, I’m casting my bread upon the water and begging whomever finds them to care for and love them. Thank you.

Well what could I do, knowing how much I love Gods creatures, I brought them home.  When I walked in with that menagerie I thought it might start World War III.  I was relieved that it did not.  On the other hand no one started singing “Good times are here again” either.  After making lengthy explanations that were probably heard with great suspicion, except for the one thing that cinched believability, that being so many critters, as opposed to one odd cat. A scraggly one at that.  Looked pretty to me.

Anyway, the situation slowly reconciled itself into the realm of acceptability, and finally joy on everyone’s part.  I built a small chicken coop in a discreet part of the backyard and the little family of Banty chickens are happy there.  The cats a lap cat and likes mine best.  There’s no cat hair problem and I’ve been real good at keeping litter box sweet and the letting cat up is no longer a necessity as the cat now sleeps in the den right besides her best bud, the dog.

By the way, my wife loves to play the piano, and when she noticed the little Boston Bull likes to stand up on her hind legs and dance to the music, that little dog became my wife’s dog right then and there, and nobody better mess with her dog

On the plus side the cat was already fixed and de clawed and box trained, the little dog housebroke.  The Bantys? Well you know that’s why they are outside.

Now remember this has been but a dream.  My wife reads everything I write, so I may be in trouble again.  I do love her very much, and I do understand her concerns.