I have one of these!

I have a gorgeous, blonde, 6' 5.5", 230 pound construction working, dog loving husband. He's an earring wearing, tattood toughguy who can throw a refrigerator. He recently sold his Low Rider (Harley) because it was ... too small. No one messes with my softie, er, I meant Husband!

When we met, he had no use for cats. He'd also never KNOWN a cat. I told him, "I've had the cats longer than I've had you, so learn to love 'em or hit the road." I'd already booted one husband, so he knew I had it in me!

For years now, I've come home to find him usually naked (his clothes in a pile by the front door) with 3 to 5 cats stretched out on him, on the back of the couch, around his head on the pillow, whatever. The dogs will be fighting the cats to get on the couch to lie next to him while he flips the remote control.

He snuffles the cats' tummies. He takes pictures of them in cute positions or looking in through the cat door. He buys them treats and toys. He builds them fires in the fireplace so they can recline on the cat window seats and on the special, cat cushions in the warmth. He feeds them treats, divides things equally, even finding someone under the bed if they are sound asleep. He takes his halogen flashlight outside to feed the ferals in the woods and barn.

At his idea, we're adopting our 6th from a foster home probably this next week, and just got another dumped kitty in the driveway. Rich was the one checking the traps each morning and night until we caught him.

I'd say this tough-guy learned. Am I lucky or what?