The Girl, as you probably already know by now, loves cats. No, I don’t think you understand—she loooves cats. She’s already beginning to sound like a teenager, talking about the day when she turns 18 and can blow this Popsicle stand and be in her own pad. The added element is that she’d go with a supply of medication and inhalers to combat her allergy, and finally get her own cat, which her parents are so cruelly keeping from her.
So a day at our local humane society, donating goods and getting to pet the cats, is like heaven to her. To the Boy—meh, nothing special. He could live with or without cats; it doesn’t make one bit of difference to him either way. He just doesn’t get excited about them the way he does over a good toy truck or neat-looking insect. But, and this is an important but, he’s beginning to understand others’ passions and interests.
So, he tagged along today on our humane society run, gamely putting in his 15 minutes, letting the cats come and rub themselves against his leg, putting out a hand to gently pat them, just as he saw his sister do. It wasn’t something that flamed his passion, but I could see that he did it because he could see that it was important to his sister.
Lately, I’ve noticed that he keeps an eye out for cat things that he thinks would excite her. If he sees a photo of a cat in the newspaper, or sees a neighbourhood feline strolling casually about, he’ll say to me, “Let’s cut this out for C!” or “Tell her to come here quickly! She’ll want to see this!”
Loving someone is about being excited about what excites them, and getting carried away by their passion, even if you yourself aren’t passionate enough about it. I’m proud of the Boy for learning this, early in life.