Thursday, May 15th, 2008
On my last post about Stanley the Charming Stray, my sister commented, “are you keeping him? huh?? huh???”
The answer is … I still don’t know. Truth is I’m frozen – I don’t know whether to seek out his nonexistent-or-worse owners or to assume he is a stray and proceed with getting him cleaned up and fixed up. If he were mine, I’d bathe him and treat him for fleas, then take him to the vet to get him treated for whatever multitude of ailments he may have, and have him neutered.
Okay, I’d have already done these things if D didn’t keep hitting the repeat button on his “We’re not keeping him” refrain. “He’s sweet, but we don’t need another animal,” Dsays, and I say, “That’s true, but maybe he needs us.”
Our other three animals all came to us through similar means – me bringing them home against D’s will, then steadfastly ignoring his protests, while banking on his slower-than-mine-but-still-potent ability to fall madly in love with a creature in need.
D and I are both too impulsive and both attempt – only sometimes successfully – to keep the other in check about our particular weaknesses. Without D’s voice of reason, I’d have a house packed to the brim with three-legged dogs and one-eyed cats. Without my voice of reason, he’d have a garage packed with shiny objects that go vroom.
As it is, I have brought us three pets – now potentially a fourth – and he has a motorcycle and a project truck.
That’s why I’m pretty sure this method could work again. Stanley, like the two cats and dog before him, is a very charming animal and already seems to have decided we’re adopting him. At first skittish, he has now taken to napping on the back stoop and even attempting to poke his head in the door behind us when we go in the house. When I open the closet where the dog food is kept, he watches me through the window and licks his lips. When I leave for work, his ears droop as I drive away. When I come home, he runs up to greet me at my car door. He lets me brush him, and he’s gotten brave enough to tentatively lick my hand.
When I first met him, he was so downtrodden, and now he already looks so much happier, like he can’t believe his good fortune. I don’t want to disappoint him.
So I guess I will have to get brave. I will have to stop asking D’s opinion and just buy Stanley the flea medicine, give him the bath, schedule him the vet appointment. He is ours, if only for now.