Parenting of people, pets a lifetime commitment to chaos

When I got my first whiff of parenthood, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the reality that I would be changing diapers for much of my foreseeable future.

While barely a glutton for punishment, I did not hesitate to pay my dues and consistently stepped up knowing every dirty diaper I changed got me one step closer to never having to do it again. There’s a finite timeline associated with such things, and whether it’s two years, three years or worse, when it’s over, it’s over and you can toss that nasty little habit in the can and be done with it for good. Then grandchildren arrive. It has been my experience, however, that an occasional poopy diaper is a very small price to pay for the joy of having a grandson.

The equation is a bit murkier when it comes to grand puppies and grand kittens. The litterbox has no finite timeline, nor do mounds of used dog chow in the backyard. I suppose the pleasure of parenting comes with a price, no matter what species one might be raising.

It’s safe to say neither Kristin nor I fully anticipated the extent to which we would end up boarding our children’s pets, but with the occasional minor misgiving, we are happy to do so. Chaos is a big part of our family vibe, so the temporary housing of ridiculous numbers of people and pets plays nicely into that theme. Over the holidays our “empty nest” blossomed into a veritable hub of pandemonium — three dogs, three cats, four people — and with a few minor exceptions, a good time was had by all.

One such exception was our own cat Binx, a cautious, shy and decidedly skittery creature. Binx vanishes into the shadows at the very suggestion of threat. The sound of two big dogs bouncing in the back door sent her into a hiding so deep and dark that we literally did not see a whisker of her the entire time the interlopers remained. We knew the fearful little tiger to be well as the food in her bowl diminished and her litterbox slowly filled, but she was little more than a ghost in this house. Once the dogs left, she resurfaced to stretch across her favorite living room chair like an emergent butterfly.

Moses, my cat, sees such communal visits as an opportunity to re-establish his dominance as the King of the Beasts. Filled with the desire to lord over any creature he deems to be of lesser standing — humans included — he frequently lures the unsuspecting into indefensible positions and then bats them in the head with his clawless paws like a prizefighter warming up on a punching bag. Once the dogs flee, the cat preens in victory for a bit, then offers himself up for another round. This situation is repeated, again and again, day and night for the duration of the stay.

As for the true king and queen of the house, we simply take the whole circus in stride, knowing it’s all part of the parenting game. Chaos is vastly preferred over quiet in this household, and it’s looking like we’ve got ourselves a lifetime supply.

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John atjlorson@alonovus.com.