Our Professor Kelp has been celebrating his birthday this month, although the specific April date is unknown.
Long ago, a speeding car screeched to the curb of an outdoor pet adoption fair, where my wife was looking for a female kitten to join the family.
Donna and I had seen numerous candidates in the months and years leading up to that eventful day, but each one of them was a fella and she would have none of that. Males, she said, spray their territories.
Donna had a problem with boys being boys inside the house. Go figure.
I finally gave up the hunt and left the matter in her hands to find us a girl.
"YOU CAN HAVE HIM! I DON'T WANT HIM!" screamed the spiteful driver, as she tossed a helpless, weeks-old kitten onto the ground near the other animals. The woman, who hadn't even bothered to step out of her car, slammed the door shut, and zoomed out of sight.
Donna, standing yards away, made immediate contact with the bewildered feline, carrying him to safety. Sadly, due to his gender and her unshakable principles, she was compelled to leave him behind.
A mile or two down the highway, she snapped and U-turned back to the fair. The blue-eyed baby was still orphaned!
I was home that Saturday afternoon, counting my blessings. Number one being I was permitted to partake in a goodly selection of male activities inside the house.
The front door opened and Donna entered, cradling a beautiful pussycat.
"Oh, hi!" I said tenderly, reaching out to stroke the kitty. "What kind is she?"
"Um," Donna hesitated.
I stared at her, waiting.
"She's a he."
I was stunned. She caved.
I've always been glad she did. Sweet Kelp has been an exemplary pet, companion, and family member, impeccably mannered and obedient.
Donna shares one of the great loves with him.
And with Kelp at my side, marking the good times and not the furniture, 20 years streamed by.
