I was telling someone of a story concerning my husband and was told that I really needed to write it down. So- here goes.
We met in 2001. He was from the city, and I, a country woman. Total opposites and we both realized that each of our passions were important enough to learn about and accept. We got hitched in 2003, and pretty much have lived 'happily ever after'.
The next thing was buying a farm in Pennsylvania and it was his first time being a country husband. He did really well and I thought it was wonderful that he loved me enough to give this way of life a try. "wow, it is dark at night out here, isn't it?"
He'd hadn't much experience with animals but for the typical city types- dogs,a car or two. Nothing having to do with horses though. I heard comments about how he'd never noticed how many horses there were around his city, and how nice they had looked. Ha- he had no idea...
Life was going along great until I woke up to a rather odd note for me. I read it and couldn't quite understand it.
"The cat stole my shoe"
Oooooooooooooookayyyyyy. I didn't think much more about it until later on that day when I found 'the shoe' under the rocking chair. ( at least I think that's the right area- it's been a while you see) When he got home from work, I heard the rest of the story. The shoes were the ones he'd be wearing to work, and at 6 AM, only finding one didn't bode so well with him. We had gotten a new 6-7-month-old kitten/cat whose favorite game was stealing various items. Apparently, the cat had a grand time playing with shoe strings and had dragged the shoe across the living room... thus 'stealing' it. Shoe was replaced and guess who was a little more careful about those shoes?
Then another time, I don't remember if it was a weekday or a weekend, but he gets up earlier than I do. He does his best to keep things quiet in the house which I adore about him. I'm able to sleep in a little that way. One morning I was awakened to something pounding on the floor. It wasn't in the bedroom and stopped after a few pounds, so I went back to sleep. Later on that morning, I happened to remember to ask him about the noise. Turns out that the now, TWO cats had caught a mouse. Of course, one had stolen it from the cat who'd done all the hard work to catch it. Cats have a terrible way of torturing their prey before finally killing it, and that's just what was happening that morning. ( ugh) The husband decided he'd pick it up and toss it in the woods or somewhere so there wouldn't be gross mouse stuff on the floor. Ha- it turns out the mouse wasn't quite dead! So, he grabbed the thing most certain to do it in- my kitchen broom!
''Smack, Smack, SMACK " Finally the mouse wasn't moving- no wait, yes it was. "SMACK, SMACK!!" He figured it was dead and he figured right. What mouse would survive that anyways? No more mouse and we had a good laugh over it all.
There have been many more husband stories but I am testing the waters here to see how he likes reading them again. ( in public < winks>)