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I met her at a party, Leah that is, not my therapist. Through my research at school, I learned that eighty per cent of all college relationships begin within twenty feet of a keg. Thus, our meeting was not a particularly novel experience. What did strike me as odd on that first night back in December of 1986, was that she was talking about her mother’s cats. In itself that wasn’t quite what I would call divergent thinking, yet on the Saturday night before exam week of our freshman year when people were traditionally talking about finals, Caribbean vacations, and Christmas wish lists, such feline subjects seemed slightly off base. Maybe that’s why I first fell for her—she would talk about anything, anywhere, no matter how out of place or time. I envied that immensely.
I knew about the cats from the beginning. In fact when I first was introduced to her she was talking about those damn cats. Although I wasn’t into pets myself, I had little problem with other people devoting so much of their time and money to other, non-human, living beings.