Source: The Barrie Hardymon Audrey Archives
wouldn't you do for this little snugglebunny?
I ask you, what
I'm happily engaged to a Kansan — he grew up on a real, live farm, with pigs, cows, sheep, and a whole herd of barn cats. He seems to love my little fuzzbucket, Audrey (see above! SEE!), with all the enthusiasm a big strong bald man can muster for a super furry Persian spoiled brat...er... cat. Imagine my horror, then, to find out that in his youth, his family had to dispose (YES, DISPOSE) of some of the aforementioned cats. This, to a young woman raised in the relatively disconnected suburban universe, was cause for a tear or two, and some soul searching. We've worked it out since then, don't fear. But I'll tell you, living with a man who lived on a farm puts my deep, obsessive, probably unhealthy love of my kitty in perspective. A raft of articles appeared last weekend about how far we will, and do, go for our pets — suffice it to say, after a staggering vet bill and some dog psychotherapy, Old Yeller probably would have made it. What's wrong with us? Are we crazy, disconnected, lonely? Have we gone too far in our pet-people relationships?