I grew up in the inner city. People think growing up in a city is some sort of punishment. I can assure you it is not. As a child, I felt comfortable with the concrete jungles of Chicago. I knew easily how to get from one place to another. I biked or I walked or I took the local subway. The city of Chicago was my entire backyard and it was a form of heaven by itself. I had lots of classmates in our apartment in Chicago so I never wanted for company of any sort. We were a breed apart those of us who lived there. Tough, strong and proud.
Then one day, my mom decided she’d had enough. She was about to be remarried and she was going to take me and my sister along for the ride. Our new father was a large man with a large house in the suburbs to match. He was apparently delighted with the prospect of being given two new daughters to spoil. I was not so quite happy. I thought of wildlife and I thought of the suburbs. The prospect of encountering deer larger than I am was not particularly reassuring. Friends of mine had migrated there and reported back that they were facing large and unexpected animals all over the place. They told tales of calls to raccoon control because the animals had invaded their garbage cans yet again and stories of grackles that seemed to mock them with every movement.
Animal Love For All
Don’t get me wrong, I like animals. I’m not going to call immediately for raccoon removal the minute I see a hint of them. But I’m short. I’ve always been the family’s runt. My sister and mother find this hysterically funny. If there’s a short joke out there they haven’t told, I’ve yet to encounter it. So the very idea of animals that can look me in the eyes is not something I find appealing at all. I like animals that I know will be shorter than I am. Bring on the ferrets, the cats and the birds; the deer and the antelope not so much.