In another life Jack was quite the horse trader. It was the main fact I had to overlook when we began dating. I grew up more of a horse for life kind of person, not one who sees them as an investment to trade on.
The marriage books all tell you to make sure you are clear with each other about money, child-rearing and household chores. Lay out your positions and come to consensus about how these traditional relationship challenges will be overcome, they say. For us, children weren't part of the equation. We're fine on money and housework. But even from our first date, animals were a sticking point.
"Animals should have jobs," he said, eating another chicken gizzard. (Yes, he ate chicken gizzards on our first date. I married him anyway.)
"What do you mean, jobs? Animals are companions, helping you on your path."
"Hogwash. Cats should be eating mice. Dogs should be working cattle or guarding or something. Horses should be vehicles, pulling plows or rounding up cows."
And so it went. We stared at each other over the deep abyss of the restaurant table. I don't know what he was thinking. Probably something along the lines of how silly and naive I was. But I was as intrigued as I was appalled; I'd never met anyone like him before.
Eventually, curiosity eventually won out over the philosophical divide and we fell in love. But before we married we made a pact. Some people survive better with separate checking accounts; we had separate animals. His were his to sell or keep as he wished and my animals were my animals to keep as long as I wanted to. There would never be any joint animals for us to argue over.
This detente was important when we started out, but now we've met in the middle. Mater has taught Jack how animals can be the best companions and life on the ranch has taught me about working animals actually like to work.
So now Jack spoils Mater while I chastise the cat for not catching enough mice. Who could have predicted?
The marriage books all tell you to make sure you are clear with each other about money, child-rearing and household chores. Lay out your positions and come to consensus about how these traditional relationship challenges will be overcome, they say. For us, children weren't part of the equation. We're fine on money and housework. But even from our first date, animals were a sticking point.
"Animals should have jobs," he said, eating another chicken gizzard. (Yes, he ate chicken gizzards on our first date. I married him anyway.)
"What do you mean, jobs? Animals are companions, helping you on your path."
"Hogwash. Cats should be eating mice. Dogs should be working cattle or guarding or something. Horses should be vehicles, pulling plows or rounding up cows."
And so it went. We stared at each other over the deep abyss of the restaurant table. I don't know what he was thinking. Probably something along the lines of how silly and naive I was. But I was as intrigued as I was appalled; I'd never met anyone like him before.
Eventually, curiosity eventually won out over the philosophical divide and we fell in love. But before we married we made a pact. Some people survive better with separate checking accounts; we had separate animals. His were his to sell or keep as he wished and my animals were my animals to keep as long as I wanted to. There would never be any joint animals for us to argue over.
This detente was important when we started out, but now we've met in the middle. Mater has taught Jack how animals can be the best companions and life on the ranch has taught me about working animals actually like to work.
So now Jack spoils Mater while I chastise the cat for not catching enough mice. Who could have predicted?
1 comment:
I like the idea that all animals have a job, sometimes that job is to remind you to laugh and be a companion.
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