Expendable Cats & Boy Scouts

Cats are expendable. Don’t read any further, cat lovers. I once had a cat, a lovely, smart, half-Siamese, who lived with us for nearly 10 years. He was touchy to the point of neurosis, secretive, indifferent, yet clean, quiet, and tolerant of human folly.

However. He was also very ill for nearly three years before he died, and it was a great relief to me when he went. In retrospect, we might have had him put down and saved us all a lot of pain.

I cleaned up so, so many grotesque leavings over his last years. I cannot comment on it. This is not how family cats met their end in my childhood. We had many cats and when they died, they were simply gone. My father, no cat lover, may have disposed of them, and I mean that in the most sinister way possible. I don’t know. They disappeared. We remembered the last one fondly and got another.

At dinner with the kids, we were discussing dogs and what kind we might want. I was careful to keep the discussion hypothetical. I could not bear a barker, or a frantic, nervous dog. Nothing you might step on. I didn’t want any breed known for its aggression. Nothing that bit. I didn’t want an oversized, excessively hairy dog. Nothing that shed. I didn’t want a stupid dog. I didn’t want a pure bred, unstable sort. I also didn’t want a mongrel with several breeds’ bad qualities.

Said I, “I’d want a dog that was loyal, trustworthy, kind, and clean. Honest, brave, and friendly.”

Said my husband, “You don’t want a dog. You want a Boy Scout.”

“Yes,” I said. Doesn’t everybody?