siamesa | Argh Argh Argh (Reply)

So, you may have noticed on here that I occasionally joke about my fun redneck relatives. It's mostly exaggerated, of course, although I think my dad and my uncle are the only two males in their familes not to have at least one deer head in their living rooms.

But generally? I love my family. There's nothing wrong with being country, and I love, love, love wide open spaces, and it's great to have people I can visit who live on them and cook great food.

But there's a dark side.

Fine, there's multiple dark sides. I'm from the bleeping South, people around here fly Confederate flags, there are some downright nasty dark sides.

But that's not what I ran into today. No, what I ran into today is this: PETS ARE NOT DISPOSABLE, BLEEP YOU.

Are you listening to me, uncle-on-my-mom's-side? Are you listening to me? I look at the kitten, the kitten you gave us- her brother just ran off or got caught by a coyote, and you don't even care. You have two cats left, but one of them is pregnant and so for a few months there'll be kittens until something gets them and you continue not to care.

You could spay her, you know. You neutered the indoor cat, but Annie (Little Orphan Annie, then Little Orphan Andrew, plain Andrew, Anakin, Ani, Vader Cat, plain Annie, or Pumkinhead) is a special case and plus he's mostly my aunt's. (Man, he's a great cat, though. You don't deserve him, you really don't.)

Your dogs are constantly rotating.

Maybe I'm a city girl. Maybe, because we'll put the kitten on a handmade pureed diet when she starts throwing up, or rush the guinea pig to the emergency vet for an IV, or purchase the Boston Terrier multiple tshirts- maybe I'm the one who views animals weirdly.

But I don't think so.

I really don't think so.

I spent a while petting poor Shade, your pregnant outdoor cat, my kitten's aunt.

She purred, and purred, and purred, and like all your pets I try my darndest not to get attached and I can't help it because doggone it, just listen to that purr.

So, random people reading this: Spay. Neuter. And you, uncle- I really do love you. You're a great guy. And I know you've got a lot on your plate and I'm a spoiled fifteen year old with no real clue how the world works.

But I don't get it. And maybe I'm hopelessly naive, and maybe I'm stupid, and maybe I'm being unfair- but every time I pet one of them, I know that I might never see it again and it certainly won't get the little grave in the backyard that my first cat got.

(On the other hand, Little Orphan What's His Name would've died without you being there for him, and you did get the newest dog all fixed up after he ran into the road about a week after he showed up at your door.)

I just don't know.

I just... don't know.