Mrs. Fat Man went to her parents farm this last weekend like she does every weekend that I work at the hospital. She helps her parents who are well into their 70’s with the tasks required to run a 250 acre farm with around a hundred head of cattle on it. When she came home Saturday night she brought home two mangy little kittens who were a few weeks old and sick with a respiratory disease. The Fat Man could live very nicely the rest of his life without another cat ever coming into his world. The only problem with that little pipe dream is that he is married to Mrs. Fat Man, who does not have the capacity to not be kind to living things. Most of our early and mid marriage years, mangy kittens, bunnies, and fallen baby birds led to big fights between us. Because for some reason, which now bewilders me, I thought I owned Mrs. Fat Man. Not like slave ownership, but more of the you need to get my permission for most everything ownership. If I could go back 26 years and change one thing, that is what I would change. The idea that she could not make decisions, go places, or buy things without running it by me. To be fair, I did not make decisions, go places, or buy things without running it by her either. The big difference is that she rarely said no, and if she did she usually had a pretty good reason. But fortunately I am extremely teachable and find change to be easy. (That is self deprecating sarcasm for those of you who missed it) So after about 20 years or so, I came to the conclusion that a marriage certificate is not a license for ownership, but is a license for partnership. So, when she brought the sickly little post scratchers home, I let her know that I did not like the whole idea, then went with her the next day to get cat milk replacer and a baby bottle. In the end one of the things that makes me such a VERY fortunate man, is the fact that I married a sweet woman who is kind to small animals……………….and hairy overbearing fat men.