Sunday, March 16, 2014

March 16, 2014

    When I was young I loved animals and dreamed of having a kitten of my own.   We would visit my uncle's farm, and go up in the barn to find the kittens and cuddle them all day, even if they had gunk in the corner of their eyes and a sickly look.
    I would pick up caterpillars and examine them without fear.  Now I skitter away from any living thing no matter what it is.  I don't know what happened to that fearless, curious little girl.  
     When James Herriot's novels about being a veterinarian in Yorkshire were published I loved reading them and later watching the televised version so much that my sons names come from those novels filled with loving anecdotes about people and their pets and animals.
  My son's girlfriend has been a good influence on our family in that way.  Her obvious love for animals  
shames me for the way I shrink away.  We need people like her in our lives to remind us how  loving a pet and being loved by one can enrich our lives.

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