Wednesday, May 12, 2010

The Characters

Hugh, the husband.

We have been married for two years. We met five and a half years ago in college in an honor's seminar. We rode together on a the way to field trip in October 2004. Hugh knew that day I was the one for him. Four short (or long, if you ask Hugh) months of friendship and wooing later, I woke up at the crack of dawn on February 13, 2005 at 7:00am and I knew that I could never be without him.

After we graduated, Hugh taught high school English for four years. Now he's a first year medical student. A man of many talents, that guy of mine.

Cliche as it may sound, Hugh makes me my best self. Impossibly, I love him more every single day. Also, he's damn funny. And nice. And smart. And modest. If your pet runs away, or your car breaks down, or you have a totally random question you think no one would ever know the answer to, he's your man.

Henry, the cat.

Our firstborn. After Hugh and I lived in Savannah (more on that later) for four weeks, I decided we needed a pet. Our rental did not permit dogs, so a cat it was. Hugh was fine with, but totally dismissive of, a cat. He was a "dog person." Long story short, I was set on a grey cat with green eyes. Hugh found a loud, loud blonde kitten at the Humane Society. I vetoed. The next day we were back at the pound putting down our deposit on that yowling kitten. Two days later, Hugh was picking Henry up and bringing him home.

Henry and Hugh are bonded on some different level. Henry loves me, but if Hugh walks in the room, Henry's purr motor revs up. When Henry was a kitten, Hugh would carry him around on his shoulder. I would always caution, one day Henry will be full grown and he will still want to ride on your shoulder. Sixteen pounds later, I don't think either of them are complaining.

Some may call Henry surly, but I think he's just particular. He is a beauty cat and he loves to chat with us, meowing back if you (well, not you) ask him a question. He is the ultimate nap partner.

Fletcher, the dog.

Our second child. When we found out Hugh had been accepted to medical school and we were moving, one of our priorities was finding a house with a yard for a dog. Mainly for Hugh, because I'm not really into dogs.

Fletcher is a boxer. He is almost one year old. He is crazy. He has completely stolen my heart.

Just as I envisioned Henry loving me best, Hugh had similar visions for Fletcher. Well, just like it didn't work out for me with old Henr-o, too bad so sad, Hugh. Fletcher defines Momma's boy. He does not want to be apart from me. I cannot shower, check the mail, work in the garden, or talk on the phone without him by my side. He does not want anyone to hug me. Not even Hugh. This makes for humorous hello and goodbye moments in our house.

Whatever you may know about boxers, Fletcher is personality plus. He has more energy than twelve five year olds and a face that will compel you to open the refrigerator and feed him cheese or pull him right up onto the couch for a nap (shhh...).

So, those are my sweet boys, my funny little family.

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