So, yeah. I don't know if you know this, but I'm not an animal person. My mom, bless her heart, is scared of all beasts. Domesticated or not. Especially those of the feline variety. In fact, cats sort of disgust her. As you can probably imagine she transferred much of that feeling to me.
Anyway, my boy loves animals. Most of all cats and dogs. Or as he would say, kitty cats and shnuggers. Often when he would come to visit me he'd come across one of the many stray kitties that populate my apartment complex and stop to, uh...talk to them. 'Cause that's how my boy rolls. Well, one night it took him forever to get to my place. When he finally arrives I find out he was busy following strays into the creek near my apartment. I believed that behavior a bit extreme, even for my aminal(I know what I said) lovin' man, so I decided to try to break him of his habit.
A few days later my plan backfired. The Saturday after his creek adventure I took him to our local humane society. I figured he could get this animal thing out of his system. That sounds logical, right? Who am I kidding!? In the back of my mind I knew it was possible he'd find someone he liked. And so, of course, he did. I also knew it would be possible that he'd be so overcome with love and joy and a savior complex that my boy'd be near death if he couldn't go home with that cat.
One week and a long story involving landlord trickery later, I own a kitten named Tux who likes to walk on my stomach when I lie down.