Hi. I kinda took an unintended hiatus there, didn't I? Busy stuff going on here at the Miller Collective. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. Anyway, on with the memories...
Oh, and I've decided to subtitle this episode: "Pets, Pets, and More Pets: Part One" or, "How I Found Out I Really Hate Cats".
So living in an old farmhouse on a couple acres of land with a barn and a chicken house more or less eventually leads to pet ownership by proxy. And that's really how it happened. One day the cats started showing up out of nowhere. Well, maybe not nowhere, in fact I'm pretty certain they were just shacking up in the barn when we moved in and came out when they knew humans were around and therefor likely offering food. And we were, too, because at the time we hadn't had a real pet in a while and having a cat or two seemed like a good idea. At the time. In retrospect, it really, really wasn't.
So one day, the first cat of what would eventually multiply into more than twenty over time, stepped into our lives and we named her Big Mama because it was apparent immediately that she was pregnant. And thus we adopted her, as it were, and brought her into the house. This proved to be a big mistake, but we'll get to that later. I wasn't too thrilled right off the bat to be a pet owner, and so I left much of the responsibility to my brother and sister who were more than happy to argue over whose turn it was to change the litter box (though the cat did often go outside more than in, actually), and keep the food and water bowl topped off. I just kind of skirted the issue and let them have her. That is until the day she gave birth. And she wasn't messing around.
If I remember correctly, she had seven kittens, two of which died. So now we had six cats. But this would mark the day I temporarily fell in love with a cat. Temporarily. The one I chose was a wiry little kitten with a really slick black-and-white pattern that looked a little like he was made from two different cats. I didn't have a proper name for it until it got old enough to play and jump. That's the day it became Spider-Man. That little cat could spring around like you read about. My siblings each took on the rest of the kittens and they soon became our house pets. The cats I mean, not my siblings.
Ah but then came the reality of cat ownership to an unbeknownst family of allergy sufferers. Sure, I discovered mine were bad the hard way: with triggered asthma outbreaks and sleepless, itchy nights.But it was my step-dad's reactions that were epic and legendary. His got so bad that he had to go to the hospital a few times. But he never said a word to us about getting rid of them because he knew we were happy with the cats. Well, at least for a little while. Eventually it had to all come to a head for both of our suffering health problems, and it was decided that the cats had to be moved to the barn. Can you guess what happened next?
If you said, "the cats bred with every other damn cat in a mile radius", you'd be exactly right. Soon, we had kittens and more kittens, while some of the adult cats managed to wander off and find new homes. For about two years we had an on-and-off supply of roughly twenty cats and kittens at any given time. But, despite that, at least we allergy sufferers were happier without dander and whatnot floating about, and we kind of enjoyed the endless parade of pussies. See what I did there? But, I'm still not fan of cats because secretly I know they know I'm allergic and do all they can to get all up in my face. I avoid them if possible.
So, during the reign of the cat, we also managed to acquire a multitude of dogs... and I'll get into that next time...
Oh, and I've decided to subtitle this episode: "Pets, Pets, and More Pets: Part One" or, "How I Found Out I Really Hate Cats".
So living in an old farmhouse on a couple acres of land with a barn and a chicken house more or less eventually leads to pet ownership by proxy. And that's really how it happened. One day the cats started showing up out of nowhere. Well, maybe not nowhere, in fact I'm pretty certain they were just shacking up in the barn when we moved in and came out when they knew humans were around and therefor likely offering food. And we were, too, because at the time we hadn't had a real pet in a while and having a cat or two seemed like a good idea. At the time. In retrospect, it really, really wasn't.
So one day, the first cat of what would eventually multiply into more than twenty over time, stepped into our lives and we named her Big Mama because it was apparent immediately that she was pregnant. And thus we adopted her, as it were, and brought her into the house. This proved to be a big mistake, but we'll get to that later. I wasn't too thrilled right off the bat to be a pet owner, and so I left much of the responsibility to my brother and sister who were more than happy to argue over whose turn it was to change the litter box (though the cat did often go outside more than in, actually), and keep the food and water bowl topped off. I just kind of skirted the issue and let them have her. That is until the day she gave birth. And she wasn't messing around.
If I remember correctly, she had seven kittens, two of which died. So now we had six cats. But this would mark the day I temporarily fell in love with a cat. Temporarily. The one I chose was a wiry little kitten with a really slick black-and-white pattern that looked a little like he was made from two different cats. I didn't have a proper name for it until it got old enough to play and jump. That's the day it became Spider-Man. That little cat could spring around like you read about. My siblings each took on the rest of the kittens and they soon became our house pets. The cats I mean, not my siblings.
Ah but then came the reality of cat ownership to an unbeknownst family of allergy sufferers. Sure, I discovered mine were bad the hard way: with triggered asthma outbreaks and sleepless, itchy nights.But it was my step-dad's reactions that were epic and legendary. His got so bad that he had to go to the hospital a few times. But he never said a word to us about getting rid of them because he knew we were happy with the cats. Well, at least for a little while. Eventually it had to all come to a head for both of our suffering health problems, and it was decided that the cats had to be moved to the barn. Can you guess what happened next?
If you said, "the cats bred with every other damn cat in a mile radius", you'd be exactly right. Soon, we had kittens and more kittens, while some of the adult cats managed to wander off and find new homes. For about two years we had an on-and-off supply of roughly twenty cats and kittens at any given time. But, despite that, at least we allergy sufferers were happier without dander and whatnot floating about, and we kind of enjoyed the endless parade of pussies. See what I did there? But, I'm still not fan of cats because secretly I know they know I'm allergic and do all they can to get all up in my face. I avoid them if possible.
So, during the reign of the cat, we also managed to acquire a multitude of dogs... and I'll get into that next time...
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