My Dad was always the one who loved the stray animals that came to our house. We lived in a rural area where there were more wild things than tame.

At one time, we had a cat that my Dad swore was part bobcat because he was so big. He was the right color, too. In those days, cats weren't kept strictly indoors. He wandered off one day, never to return.

Dad was a good one for rescuing the local chipmunks and squirrells. He would bring them into the house to doctor whatever ailed them. When they were well, he'd release them back into the woods/yard.

We usually had a dog, mostly in the yard. They never seemed to wander off. None were particularly memorable. All were free, mutts from someone's litter.

Neither of my sets of grandparents had animals, except for chickens (for eggs & food).

After my mother's death, I learned that she was the one who loved animals the most. I always thought she just put up with them for my Dad's sake.

I guess I'm passing on the tradition. I have 12 cats and two dogs. My daughter has always had dogs, and now a cat.

I think I got carried away!