|Sure, she looks cute now.|
Like most children I started begging my mom for a kitten shortly after learning to speak. Fluffy fur? Win. Pull-able tail? Win. I had to have one.
I named our first kitten "Sarah" because I'm original like that. She was cute, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was also a blood thirsty piranha.
For Sarah, every day was hunting season and your ankles were the game. She would hide behind the couch, in baskets of laundry and I'm pretty sure there were times she would descend from the ceiling a la Mission Impossible.
After the removal of her front claws she came at you like a Velociraptor instead. She was a real charmer.
The animals that followed in the wake of Sarah weren't on her level of insanity. Most of them were actually quite gentle and even sweet. However, as I got older I started to realize how much of a responsibility these little creatures were. They insisted on eating regularly. Some of them needed walks. They even defecate and stare at you until you do something about it.
Not what I signed up for.
Don't get me wrong, I love animals. I do. But I love them the way I love babies. I'll come play with yours then hand it back over when it starts to fill it's diaper.
I'll sympathize with you when your dog eats your pumps, then go home and hug my intact shoes. I'll hand you a paper towel when your cat coughs up a hairball on your carpet, then go home and kiss my hardwood floors.
Maybe someday I'll feel the need to have a dependent furball in my life. Anything is possible. For now, I'm content.