I have a friend who’s in the midst of a big dilemma. She rescued a pregnant mama cat and can’t decide to abort the litter or not.
Half of her friends say, of course…what are going to do with all those kittens…are you crazy?
The other half, meaning me, understands why she’s painfully on the fence.
Neither one of us ever had kids. We say things like, never wanted-em…A-OK about the whole thing. I have a husband, that’s enough.
Stock phrases are great, they almost fool even you.
Then you find yourself madly in love with a basset hound that’s not even yours and a knocked up cat who likes to have her soon to be big belly rubbed till the cows come home.
So you name her Bella, which means beautiful in Italian, because she simply glows, like all expectant mothers, causing you to fall head over heels for this furry creature who’s just so happy she’s no longer outside.
Women were born to mother. It’s in our genes. That’s why we fuss over our men and fret when that one limping squirrel doesn’t show up in the morning for breakfast.
Women who were blessed enough to have children have a venue to pour their love and concern into.
The rest of us have to improvise.
My friend has the biggest heart. She would have made the best mom, but for now she can love Bella regardless of what choice is made concerning her condition.
Did I mention she has four other cats also rescued from the great outdoors?
I myself would be thrilled to push Carmela, the basset, down the street in a stroller. I’d smile and nod as dozens of people purred at the sheer sight of us…
a mother and her basset hound.
Women, we were born to nurture.