Exhibit J: Our Pets

The weirdest thing about our pets is the alarming number of them.  My parents probably spend more money on animal food than human food.  Mostly because they grow their human food.  Both my parents seem to have an uncontrollable urge to feed and house any living thing that needs it.  Luckily that includes humans.  If you need a roof over your head, they'll find space for you be you Homo Sapien or feline.  You may not care for your three roommates of various species, but you'll be warm and dry.  And dewormed.   
As long as I can recall we've had cats, a dog and a fish tank.  I think this started as an effort to teach the kids responsibility, but it soon became clear who was boss.  Grootie.  She belonged to my grandmother who lived with us.  Grandma K. had two cats, Faust and Grootie, both as black as midnight.  At that same time we also had a dog named Willie (a girl) and we acquired a cat which was named Arafel.  Yeah, I don't know where that name came from either.  I'm just glad they decided to name me after my grandmother.  And a tank full of goldfish.  4 kids + 3 adults + 3 cats + 1 dog + 5 fish.  16.  Easily the fewest number of creatures that have ever lived in my parents home at one time.  This is what I remember about those pets.  Grootie liked you if you pet her, otherwise she wanted nothing to do with you.  Willie had some puppies that she deserted somewhere and we never found (at least not that I know of).  One of the goldfish hopped out of the tank and dried to the wall while we were on a trip.  Arafel was the mother of many of our subsequent cats.  She had one litter under our shed where a skunk lived.  Bad choice.  She lost that fight and we had to wash baby kittens in tomato juice.  More than once I had to bottle feed baby kittens, it is not as cute as it sounds.

Ok, maybe it is.

From her first batch of kittens we all picked a kitten of our own.  Mine was a yellow tabby named Mustard.  The last cat I voluntarily owned.  Nana picked a black one with white paws named Mittens, who would claw your feet through the crack under her bedroom door if you got too close.  Beadle got two gray tabbies, Melanie and Stripes.  And Pooker got the calico, I can't remember its name.  After Willie we had a dog named Katrina.  She was part wolf.  We got the educational hamsters that I was meant to learn about the birds and the bees (and cannibalism) from.  Incidentally, we once left one in an exercise ball overnight, my mom woke up to weird sounds and assumed it was an intruder, she attacked it with a handy fencing foil she had nearby.
I decided I loved parakeets, I went through several.  Including one, a bright yellow bird named Goldenrod (in retrospect that's a bad name for anything, even a flower) that I took the phrase "if you love something let it go..etc"  to heart and freed him.  He never came back.  And it is unlikely he survived the Utah snows.  My favorite parakeet, Marbles, was eaten by an unnamed cat while we were in Payson one summer.  One parakeet got shut in the door, my mom tried to resuscitate him with CPR.  It didn't work.  Around this time Pooker had a turtle.  That Katrina tried to eat.  Unsuccessfully.  Still, he was never himself again after the attack.  The hamsters multiplied, the cats multiplied, the fish multiplied, and I remained blissfully oblivious to their methods. 
When Katrina died, after my dad took her off in the woods to return the earth (he always felt and still does that that is where they feel the most at home, and where they belong when they die (I'm not entirely sure about the legality of this, but he's never let that stop him.))  He has also, more than once, expressed a desire to be handled the same way when his time comes (I AM pretty sure about the legality of that.) We got two dogs, Jessie and Kaio.  I foolishly named Jessie after a girl at school who I really wanted to be friends with.  Somehow naming a dog after her did not have the flattering impact on her that I had imagined.  Weird.
Mika was my dad's first service dog, followed by Songka, who is still pretty new. 
About the time we got Mika we had many cats (probably more than 20) which my parents actively vaccinated and medicated and fed and fixed.  By this time I knew that meant they shouldn't still be multiplying.  We had a rescued iguana who was the meanest lizard I've ever met.  He was also five feet long.  And countless fish. 
Now there are fewer cats.  Like fifteen.  Most of them are half wild and will hiss if you come near.   Many are missing tails or are otherwise too mangy to be loveable.  Two dogs.  And an unnumbered amount of fish.  And six humans. 

This is what happens when your heart is too big to say no.  You end up deworming wild cats when you meet your son-in-law to be for the first time.   Also, some people may begin to suspect that you may be too mangy to be loveable. 

Exhibit I: My Dad

I meant to do this for Father's Day, but here I am writing this two weeks too late when I should be doing the dishes.  My Dad is a bizarre human being.  He says he's sort of a redneck hippie.  Which is such an incongruent phrase I can't quite wrap my brain around it.  I thought I'd list his top five eccentricities, so I can save the rest for later.  We'll see how I do.
Number One:  Ha, ha, I'm sitting here blankly trying to decide which is the most unusual.  These are in no particular order then, to make it easier for me. The way he greets and responds to greetings.  Often he will just say "greetings"  I always think "earthling" in my head afterwards.  Occasionally "salutations".  He has various amusing responses to "how are you?" like "fair to middlin'"  or "sixes" or the more literal "you'd have to ask my parents" (Um. No.) or "13.8 billion years ago there was a singularity".  If you ask how he feels it's often "slightly squashy".  I can't remember even once saying, "how are you?" and him saying "fine".   He almost never responds to a question in the way you'd expect.  I guess I can respect that level of non-conformity to social norms.  I just wish that it only went as far as how he says hello.  Instead of permeating every layer of his social, emotional and cultural behavior.
Number Two: Conspiracies.  I don't really have a place to begin with this and he will probably read this and go "what conspiracies?" that's because they are all fact to him.  But he once told me that the government puts trans-fats in everything to keep us unhealthy.  Or he'll get irked if I wear a shirt with a logo on it because that's free advertising, I suppose that's not really a conspiracy.  Don't get him started on George W. Bush, or organic food or oil conspiracies.  It's always a lively conversation. 
Number Three:  And this one is totally involuntary, but still unusual.  My dad has sensitivities to anything with synthetic fragrances.  He coughs like crazy around perfume, deodorant, cleaners you name it.  Before he comes to visit I launder all my towels and sheets in fragrance free detergent.  But I always miss something.  As a result of these sensitivities, he often wears a mask in public.  When he has to remove it, he stores it conveniently on his elbow.  Fortunately, the man-made fragrance of human body odor doesn't make him cough, so if I go for days deodorant free he's the only person I won't be offending.   If you're coming for a visit, please check your lotions, soaps, perfumes and household cleaners at the door. 
Number Four:  This is less of an eccentricity, but still an unusual part of who he is.  I can't honestly talk about who my dad without mentioning that he has a service animal.  She is his constant companion.  What she does and why he needs her is a little harder to explain.  About twenty years ago he had a TIA (transient ischemic attack) on his way to work.  It's like a mini-stroke.  He never fully recovered.  Later he was involved in a car accident which caused further damage.  He hasn't been fully functional since then.  He likes to say he lost his marble.  He forgets a lot.  He wanders aimlessly around grocery stores.  He falls asleep unless otherwise occupied.  The dog is there to remind him to go home.  To wake him up.  To keep him active and alert.  Basically like a wife only hairier and less busy.  So Songka goes everywhere with him.  Once my parents brought her to my house for the weekend.  They vehemently assured me she didn't shed. 


Baloney

She is a purebred malamute.  In the New Mexican desert.  Of course she sheds.  It is my opinion that her services would be better rendered if she were...


Hairless?

Smaller?



Both?
 

Ok.  I guess we'll keep her.  It could definitely be weirder.
Number Five:  This goes along pretty well with my last one.  My dad LOVES canines.  Not just dogs.  When asked to go anywhere formal he wears a tie with a wolf howling at the moon.  Like to my wedding.  (I'd like to add here that he also wore his favorite footwear, Teva sandals with black socks, it went well with his suit. Luckily he left his booney hat at home.)  One of his favorite pastimes is tracking coyotes, so he can observe them in their natural habitat.  I'm fairly certain he spends more times with canines than humans (even if we excluded Songka from the canine category).  If he was told that he could take either my mom or the dog on a luxury vacation for two.....I'm not 100% positive he would pick my mom. 


Okay, It's not howling





SO that's just the top five.  I'm sure my siblings will throw some in there that I've forgotten that they think are weirder.  Although my dad is undoubtedly odd, he has some redeeming qualities too.  He gave me a deep and enduring love for nature.  He is someone I can call on no matter what the trouble is.  He has more patience than anyone I know.  He never swears.  Probably the best lesson is that he taught me that how you look isn't important.   It's how you think and what you do that matters.
Oh, and he taught us to love Tolkien.

"The lizard wept onto his horse."