We have two pets. Hmmm … well … that’s not quite true. We have two animals that are considered pets and then we have a fish tank. So if you count the fish in the fish tank, I don’t know how many pets we have. I don’t count the fish. So we have two pets. They are Sam (the golden retriever) and Monty (the black cat).
Sam is also known as Samuel Allen Dawg. That’s his registered name … he is registered with the American Kennel Club. Samuel Allen is for the man who was Ethan Allen’s father. Ethan being the Revolutionary War hero … um … not the furniture store. We added the Dawg because you have to have three names for the AKC and we couldn’t think of anything else. It seemed appropriate.
Monty is also known as Montgomery Montgomery from the Series of Unfortunate Events. He was born in our laundry room on Patriot’s Day 2005. He is a beastie cat. He yells a lot. He also purrs a lot. This has saved him from many trials.
Today, as I heard Monty yelling from across the field that he wanted to come in the house (the door was already open), I remarked, “That cat is dumber than a sack of hair.” Which sent LightBoy into gales of laughter. When he recuperated he said, “Mom! That cat *is* a sack of hair.” We were eating lunch out on the deck. It’s wrong to be able to eat lunch outside in the end of October. I’m enjoying it, but it’s wrong.
Monty has been in one too many cat fights lately and he’s looking a little raggedy. His back end looks as though a five year old took after him with a set of electric clippers … and the clippers lost. We imagined what it would take to make a set of cat armor for him that would work. He needs to let his fur grow back. But I don’t imagine he’ll stay inside for vanity’s sake. Does anyone know where we can get some kitty kevlar?
After lunch we came inside and settled into our seats in the family room. The door to the deck was open. The wind was blowing. Sam is worried. He keeps watching the door waft back and forth. What is making that door move? No one is standing anywhere near it. He looks at me. He looks at the door. Why is the woman not worried about that door? Why doesn’t she see it move? The door should not move! Make it stop!! The door keeps gently moving. Now some papers flutter in the breeze. Oh wait … the breeze fans his feathers and he likes that so he forgets about the door and faces the wind. Then … the door moved in his peripheral vision again and the worry returns. I watched this for a while bemused.
Our pets are a source of almost endless amusement for me. Especially Sam. I wonder what it would be like to not understand the wind. To see a door move and worry about it’s source. Then I think … maybe that’s why the church is struggling so right now. We do not understand the Wind. We see it move a door and worry about it’s source. Instead of just enjoying the Wind and allowing it to blow and letting the Wind curl around us and embrace us, we worry about it. Maybe we should just relax and let it be.
