Me: Do you like hugging?
Mark: Yeah. I guess so.
Me: When you see cows do you want to hug them?
Me: I want to give the cows hugs.
I love hugging. The weird thing is that I’m not one of those people that will initiate a hugreeting (hug + greeting, people. Keep up) because I don’t know how other people feel about hugging. And there is nothing worse than the awkwardness of starting to hug someone who only wants a handshake. Ugh. Makes my stomach hurt thinking about it.
Needless to say, I’m not hugging you unless you come at me with the arms wide open.
Animals are a different story, though. Animals can’t embarrass me with a handshake. And I’m finding myself wanting to hug every single animal that comes my way.
I don’t settle for simply petting my cats most of the time. I pick them up and give them old-fashioned hugs. I see stray cats and dogs and I wonder first about their desire for a hug before I think about them needing food or water. And there is this farm thing that I pass everyday on the way to work and when I’m lucky the light turns red and I get the opportunity to sit and stare at the various furry animals behind the fence. And all I think the whole time I sit there is “Gosh, you look like you need a hug, Mr. Billy Goat.”
And he does need a hug! All things with fur, even fur as minimal as a cow, need hugs in my opinion. And I long to save each and every one of them from death by hug starvation.
So I’m sitting at the stop light, wondering how hard it would be to catch a baby billy goat and how pissed he’d be about getting hugged and it occurred to me…
I think I understand the Furries. And that’s just wrong.
(I really do want to hug every animal I see. And I have no clue if cows are furry. Please enlighten me.)