HA! A crack in the denial

My DH refuses the fact that Joe Kitty has claimed him. If I say "Your cat
is being a goofball again," he says, "I don't have a cat!"

And yet, this morning, when opening a new jug of milk, DH tossed down the
evil plastic thingy for the cats to kill.

And they killed it GOOD.

TBird ---- married to a good cat slave

TBird wrote:
My DH refuses the fact that Joe Kitty has claimed him. If I say
"Your cat is being a goofball again," he says, "I don't have a cat!"

And yet, this morning, when opening a new jug of milk, DH tossed down
the evil plastic thingy for the cats to kill.

And they killed it GOOD.

TBird ---- married to a good cat slave

Don't you love it?! LOL

Remember that milk commercial (I think that's what it was) where the woman
was using the evil sucky monster and gently pushed aside with her foot the
plastic thingey? My mom, who has never been around cats, didn't understand
the commercials until I explained it to her. She had no idea cats make toys
out of these funny little scatterings left by us humans.

Jill

Karen wrote:

My dad denied he liked cats forever. Despite the fact he built them
furniture. Took them to vets. Fed them cheese. Carpeted a wall for them.
Combed the long haired ones. You get the drift.

Wow, your dad is more extreme than TBird's DH. I remember you talking
about the furniture and carpeted walls (I love the carpeted wall idea,
some time I'm going to do that for my kitties). How he can do all that
and still claim he doesn't like cats is some serious denial!

Joyce

On 2004-12-01, jmcquown penned:

My dad still denies liking cats. Funny, even though he is still mad at me
for pursuing my own happiness with John he asks how the cat is.

I remember (I told this story before) him always saying he hoped I wasn't
watching a cat out the front window when I was still a teen. He growled at
me one day, "What the HELL are you looking at out there? Better not be a
cat!" I waffled between telling him nothing or beckoning him over to look.
I beckoned. Shhhhh! Come here. Careful, don't scare it!" It was a
teensy-tiny rabbit with ears about 2 inches long that had made a home in a
hole in the bricks. He melted and said, "Awwww! It's a baby bunny!" He
immediately went to see if we had any lettuce in the fridge.

I have the feeling he feels this way about Persia, whom he's never seen. He
was also crabby about my dog Sampson when I had to move back home after my
divorce in 1984 and brought the 2 year old pup with me. "You'd better pick
up his crap in the yard!" Next thing I knew, he was on the floor playing
with the dog and letting him get up in his recliner with him. He even
forgave him for peeing on his chives!

Dads are just funny that way.

Jill

Dads have the softest hearts of all, and that's why they're so leery of
letting anything in.

I remember my campaign, at about 9 years of age, to get a dog. I finally did
succeed, but I never learned until later why my dad was so opposed. It wasn't
the feeding, or the walks, or scheduling dog sitters ... it was the simple
fact that you love these creatures so much, but they only live a short while
and then you lose them and it hurts like nothing else.

Puma, the dog I did get at 9 years of age, just after we'd moved from Germany
and before the furniture was delivered, has wedged his way into all of our
hearts. I still tear up when I think about him. His ashes live in my
parents' garage, at a window where he can see the yard, the water, and the
sun, with a little vase holding a cotton stalk to mark the shrine. My dad did
all of that, choosing the right place and setting his little spot up "just
so." But for all of Puma's life, my dad never ceased mentioning, "I love this
dog, but I didn't want him!"

--
monique

Monique Y. Mudama wrote:
On 2004-12-01, jmcquown penned:

My dad still denies liking cats. Funny, even though he is still mad
at me for pursuing my own happiness with John he asks how the cat is.

I remember (I told this story before) him always saying he hoped I
wasn't watching a cat out the front window when I was still a teen.
He growled at me one day, "What the HELL are you looking at out
there? Better not be a cat!" I waffled between telling him nothing
or beckoning him over to look. I beckoned. Shhhhh! Come here.
Careful, don't scare it!" It was a teensy-tiny rabbit with ears
about 2 inches long that had made a home in a hole in the bricks.
He melted and said, "Awwww! It's a baby bunny!"
Dads are just funny that way.

Jill

Dads have the softest hearts of all, and that's why they're so leery
of letting anything in.

I remember my campaign, at about 9 years of age, to get a dog. I
finally did succeed, but I never learned until later why my dad was
so opposed. It wasn't the feeding, or the walks, or scheduling dog
sitters ... it was the simple fact that you love these creatures so
much, but they only live a short while and then you lose them and it
hurts like nothing else.

Yeah. My father got all upset when I had to have Sampson put down at nearly
18 years of age. I didn't know until after that when he was a boy in the
1930's he had a dog named Spot (heh) and it was killed by eating some poison
bait a neighbor had left out. They lived in the country where dogs could
run free but apparently this neighbor thought the dog was getting into the
chicken house (maybe he was; I don't know, Dad doesn't know). But he never
wanted to go through that heartbreak again. So he hardened that soft heart.

We were not allowed to have pets when I was a kid other than birds. The
bird tradition has continued. Dad would probably love Persia. Even though
he still swears he hates cats, he asks me about how she's doing.

Jill

"jmcquown" wrote in message
. ..
Yeah. My father got all upset when I had to have Sampson put down at
nearly
18 years of age. I didn't know until after that when he was a boy in the
1930's he had a dog named Spot (heh) and it was killed by eating some
poison
bait a neighbor had left out. They lived in the country where dogs could
run free but apparently this neighbor thought the dog was getting into the
chicken house (maybe he was; I don't know, Dad doesn't know). But he
never
wanted to go through that heartbreak again. So he hardened that soft
heart.

We were not allowed to have pets when I was a kid other than birds. The
bird tradition has continued. Dad would probably love Persia. Even
though
he still swears he hates cats, he asks me about how she's doing.

Exactly like my father! His family got a cat sometimes in the '30s or late
'20s, and they were all very fond of it. But unfortunately, after some years
(can't remember how many) the cat was run over by a car, and the whole
family cried for two weeks.

For many years, we did not understand why my father wouldn't let us have a
pet, it wasn't until a few years ago he told us about the cat he had when he
was a kid. Ok, we had birds, because he could control that, they couldn't be
run over by cars...

He was very fond of animals, I know that, but he never wanted to tie any
bonds to them, he was afraid of losing them.

That's how it is!

Hans

Adrian wrote:
I wonder what would have happened if the Borg had tried to assimulate
cats. Can you imagine cats being all of one mind? Maybe the battle at
Wolf 359 would have been futile. ;-) OK I'm rambling.

Or not, if the cats decided it was time for a nap...

--
Victor Martinez
Owned and operated by the Fantastic Seven (TM)
Send your spam he
Email me he

On Wed, 01 Dec 2004 20:46:16 +0000, jXwXeXrXmXoXnXt wrote:

Karen wrote:

My dad denied he liked cats forever. Despite the fact he built them
furniture. Took them to vets. Fed them cheese. Carpeted a wall for them.
Combed the long haired ones. You get the drift.

Wow, your dad is more extreme than TBird's DH. I remember you talking
about the furniture and carpeted walls (I love the carpeted wall idea,
some time I'm going to do that for my kitties). How he can do all that
and still claim he doesn't like cats is some serious denial!

Joyce


He doesn't like them -- he loves them.