But I Love Him

He’s very charming, when he wants to be. He’s very stylish, very elegant, very handsome, lean and muscular, and moves with such grace that you can’t help admiring him. And he can be genuinely warm and affectionate, when he remembers to do so. The children love him, and when he thinks of them, he’s very good with them. He plays their favorite games with them with even more energy than they do, and then cuddles with them for hours. I think he loves me, even though I know he’s using me. And I’m sure he loves the children, though he doesn’t know how to say it. And I love him.

So I’ve never had the heart to throw him out, despite the fact that he’s bigoted, foul-tempered, sexist, lazy, and utterly selfish. He doesn’t do anything around the house, but gets mad if I haven’t kept it perfectly clean. He’s never worked a day in his life. He eats the food that I worked for, sometimes even grabs food off my plate, and never says thank you. He’s a terrible bully, always picking on the small and weak. He’s attacked me several times, and once he even left the children bleeding, stalking away indignantly as if they deserved it. But I love him.

He’s a thief, and has that particular blend of stupidity and cunning that most thieves have. He doesn’t even steal anything valuable – which is why he gets away with it – he just steals for the thrill of stealing. He keeps me up all night worrying about where he’s gone, and what kind of crowd he’s running with, and whether the fight he has tonight will be the one that kills him. And when he does come home, he never even bothers to explain the new cuts and bruises – just gives me a contemptuous glance when I ask, flops onto the couch, and sleeps until the next night, when he goes out and does it again. Once he was so far gone when he came home that he peed all over the living room floor. But I love him.

I’ve heard rumors of the children he’s fathered and abandoned to live in the streets, and I can’t help believing them. He’s even been accused of several killings; and though I’ve seen how gentle he can be, I also know his temper, and I wonder. And yet, I really do love him.

But it’s two o’clock in the morning, and I swear to God, if he doesn’t stop meowing RIGHT NOW, I’m going to bring him back to the animal shelter and leave him there!

© John M. Munzer