I like your smile

That's how it began. That's not how it ended.

When you meet someone, you begin to look at them with how they'll fit into your life, and how you'll fit into theirs.

Some relationships end in marriage, others disaster. And others still, are bad enough to be categorized as funny. 

You may know him, or merely know of his name, but in this blog, he shall be known as Sarturo.

At our first meeting, it was a little like this:

We would talk for hours, amazed at the things we had in common, almost like we had known each other for years verses days. 

It seemed too good to be true. 

And it was. There was always some concern in the back of my mind, some nagging doubt about something that wouldn't go away. But what was it?

Hello animals.

I asked Sarturo to read my blog about dear Jack Spitz. He did not. When we were on an outing a month ago, I shared Jack's tumultuous story, and received a generic, feigned interest response (we girls can always tell). But what was a girl to do? The guy was great otherwise, so I pressed on, hoping that in his heart of hearts, he really did care about my pets.

But then, my beloved Labrador, Cadie, dog of mine for almost 9 years became ill. I shared my concern with Sarturo, and there was little to no reaction.

I took Cadie to the vet clinic, where she was diagnosed with diabetes (fasting blood sugar of 541). Dealing with insulin, schedule changes, food changes, I hoped that boyfriend of mine would inquire about the results of my dog's blood tests.

Nothing. Silence. 

So, I filled him in, hoping that once the news hit, he would take it from there and ask how she's doing, much like every other friend on the planet who was privy to my dogs recent diagnosis did. 

Nothing.

I gently reminded him after a few weeks, that if he's going to care for and about me, then my hope is that he will also care about the events transpiring in my life. It makes somewhat of an impact with Sarturo, I will admit. Sort of like a pebble being thrown at a piece of metal.

Next came Andy, Golden Retriever extraordinaire. My best veterinarian animal partner, Andy and I worked thousands of hours together during my duration at the vet clinic. Sadly friends, he had to be euthanized on October 12th. I didn't get to say goodbye to my sweet boy. When I heard the news, I was heartbroken. While I did not raise Andy from puppy-hood, I can clearly say that I loved him as my own. Andy loved me, and I loved him.

Sharing the saddening news with Sarturo generated a flat line response. A few "oh's" and that portion of my sad story was done. He didn't care. Actually, he changed the subject.

I began to wonder: Is this normal?

In case you're wondering, the answer is no.

I had some wild turkeys take refuge in my yard the last week, and upon sharing the delightful news with Sarturo, I was informed that I should shoot them, freeze them, and sell them. Now don't get me wrong, I can take a good joke, but this conversation initiated the demise of our relationship.

When we first began dating, I asked Sarturo about his views on hunting. He told me he didn't enjoy it; too costly, too much effort, and not worth it. Satisfied, I took that as the truth. However, after the topic of turkeys came up, I discovered that Sarturo likes killing:

• Pheasants
• Prairie dogs
• Racoons
• Wood peckers
• Bunnies (he called them that, not me)

Why? Well, not for food, which makes sense for most hunters. He kills the aforementioned creatures because they are "nuisances". 

After seeing that I was a little bit horrified, he asked me this question:
"What if you were driving, and you hit a cat? Would you pull over and see if it was okay, or keep on driving?"

1) I like animals

2) I worked at a vet clinic for almost four years. What do you think I'd do?!

I tell him I'd check on the animal's welfare. He looks at me like I told him I'd sacrifice it to satan.

Carefully, I ask him, "Sarturo, what would you do?"

"I'd keep on driving, wondering what the cat was doing in the road to begin with."

(Side note: Pretty sure I read somewhere that someone who delights in killing animals, and believe me, he does, is how serial killers begin. Just saying).

(Second side note: This question/answer was later modified to include dogs, and Sarturo would still do a hit and run).

Emboldened, I ask, "Well, what do you think I should have done with my dog, since she now has diabetes?"

He responds that I should have euthanized her, due to the cost of her medical care, which P.S. really isn't that bad. After a moment, he asks "wait, how much would a euthanasia cost?" I quote a price, and he tells me that I really should have just "taken her out to the backyard and shot her".

Naturally, we decided to take a few days off to think about things, though I did end our conversation telling Sarturo that this bit of news is definitely a deal-breaker.

So, three days go by, and I get the occasional text from him. Everything I text to him generates the same response:

Me: "I got two job offers today!"

S: "Cool"

Me: "Hey, hope your day is going well"

S: "Cool"

Me: "Got my math homework done!"

S: "Cool"

Ladies, this is the relationship dreams are made of!

Thursday night, we reconvened. 

Sarturo informed me that he tried, tried to understand why I was ever sad about Andy, but it's not like I raised him  or anything. 

He told me that any monetary investment in an animal is "extreme" and an animal is a wasted investment. That is, any money spent on veterinary care, pet food, even a leash is outrageous. At the end of the day, it's just an animal.

Also, he told me that it seems like I would love an animal more than a human, placing them above my future husband and children. (Which is weird, because not too long ago, someone told me they were shocked that I had even the remotest amount of love in my heart for animals because I just don't come across that way.)

But perhaps the best quote of the night was:
"I don't like animals. That's it".

That's it? Who doesn't like animals, domesticated or wild? He told me that he "doesn't dislike killing things". Who wants to kill just because?

And so, Monday night, I received a final phone call from Sarturo. I really let him have it, too, telling him that his dislike of animals is a little extreme, uncompassionate, and that I've never met anyone who hates animals. Where's the love? 

He told me that loving animals was "not built" into him. He also told me that hello, where he's from, you hunt to eat.

I stated that I've never heard of eating racoons and woodpeckers, but hey, if that floats his boat, go for it! 

....that didn't go over well. 

Readers, I may or may not have hinted that he's this country's next serial killer, and I may or may not have told him that whenever I think of him, I will think of him as the jerk from the state he is from.

Blockhead even stated that before meeting me, he'd never heard of people who pet-sit (a common side job of mine). Apparently in his neck of the woods, you leave your pet at home, have someone check on them once or twice and keep your fingers crossed that your pet is alive when you return.

He ended the conversation by telling (yelling) at me that I will never find a better guy than him, and then, he hung up on me.  

I guess it's over.