Last night at the dinner table, I saw something I never thought I would see in my household. Yes, a cat slept on the table while we ate. I watched in silence to see what would happen. How could my cat hating husband eat calmly and not notice? Finally, toward the end of my artichoke, I ventured, "Russ, do you know what is on our table?" "Oh, I guess that's not very sanitary is it," he replied. "I think she's really tired and needs to catch up from her hard night last night."
Part of me is incredulous. What happened to the man that said year after year that cats were for drop kicking? But the other part of me understands that I married an incredibly loving man that loves all living creatures. He could not hold it against Pywackit that she is a cat once she was part of his household. "Besides," he tells me, "I already love a cat and know how they are. (me) They have to choose to when and if they are loved. It is a privilege to win their trust and affection." My heart warms to this funny man with all his inconsistencies that aren't inconsistent at all to me.
Yes, now that it's warmer, the cat will spend more time in the garage and outdoors. Her curiosity will enjoy the new smells and things to pounce. But I think Pywackit is embedded in our house to stay.