Saturday, January 1, 2011

My husband has the patience of a saint

Earlier today, I was driving home, and I had a pitbull run out in front of me. I managed to slam my breaks on just in time, but it reminded me of why I have the best husband ever.

One night a few years back, we were driving home pretty late at night, through a not-so-good neighborhood. I felt a bit of a thump, and pulled over, because while I didn't see anything run out in front of me, it sure didn't feel like I hit a rock, or something really solid.

So I pull over, and see a cat sprawled out in the middle of the street. I don't see any blood, but it's not moving. I start to take my jacket off, so I can wrap it up and scoop it up, when it pops up, and goes tearing off into somebody's yard. In a bad neighborhood (actually, a neighborhood that had recently been in the news for having a fair amount of meth houses). At 2 in the morning. In the winter.

Somehow, I convinced Tyler that the two of us HAD to find this cat to make sure it was ok. We're stumbling through yards with cars on cinderblocks, using our cell phones as flashlights, trying to find this damned cat. The whole time Tyler's mumbling something about "if we get shot over a stray cat, I'm going to be mad." We spent about an hour and a half looking. We called animal control, and they helped us look. We got yelled at by some people who were not happy to have people tromping around so late at night. And we never found the cat. I ended up assuring myself that if it could run, and must have jumped a 6 foot fence to get away from us, it couldn't have been too badly injured - I'm pretty sure it ran into the side of my tire, so it may have just been stunned. And somehow, despite a little grumbling, Tyler never argued with me about why nobody in their right mind would go to the lengths we did to find what was probably a stray cat. And that's why he's a keeper.

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