Real men love cats

Some men find it hard to admit that they love their cats. I live on a horse ranch in Northern Idaho, in a part of the country where losing an arm in a logging accident is considered the cityfolk equivalent of a scratch. My poker buddies are men who eat nails for breakfast.

The men up here like to project a Rambo-like image to the outside world, but inside there's sometimes a secret love that they won't freely admit, even to their own wives and especially to their veterinarians.

You see, real men don't own cats. That's their story, and they're sticking to it.

Now, let me explain.

One of the things I've always gotten a kick out of as a veterinarian is watching somebody bring a cat in, holding the animal lovingly, and then hurriedly passing it off to the receptionist like a furry hot potato, mumbling: "This is ma's cat. I'm just dropping it off for her."

Or, "This is my girlfriend's cat, and she asked me to bring it in for her."

As veterinarians, we're more than happy to oblige any request for care, but we know a dirty little secret that's not very well hidden. That little pussycat is their beloved pet, too. It's just that they can't admit it. Or worse yet, show their affection.

Because real men don't own cats. Case in point: A few years back I was working at a cat-only veterinary hospi- tal and watched a guy who looked like a shoo-in for the Biker Hall of Fame walk through the door with a cute little kitten.

"Here," he said, setting the kitten on the counter. "My woman asked me to drop this hairball off for you to spay and give her her shots. I'll come back tonight and pick her up."

The veterinarian, with a wink and a nod to me, took the cat into the back and started the procedures.

Later that day, the tough guy came in, paid the bill and received his "fixed kitty" — minus a few things but now adorned with a cute little pink bow, thanks to a tech with an offbeat sense of humor.

Thoroughly disgusted, the man hur- riedly paid the bill and walked off, holding the kitten at arm's length like the little creature had a contagious disease.

A few minutes later I was sitting outside in my car, ready to go home, when I witnessed the most amazing transformation in the man. Once safely outside in his truck and thinking himself unobserved — people in love are usually so oblivious — the heman started sweettalking the kitten.

"Did they hurt you, little girl?" he asked the kitten. "Well, don't you worry, 'cause daddy's going to go by the store and pick you up a special treat for tonight because you've been soooo brave!"

Huh?

Could this be the same guy who treated the kitty that morning with the same fondness he'd have for helmet laws and gun control?

Oh yes, it was.

As we veterinarians know, men like these aren't too willing to let the world in on their little secret: that they love their little kitties and can't wait for their purring pets to curl up next to them at night.

So the next time you're in the veterinarian's waiting room and see a tough guy come in with a cat he seems to loathe, you'll know what we veterinarians know:

That cat's not ma's pet after all.