Weekend Beach Bum 

This past weekend, if you were in Rehoboth, you saw greyhounds, and greyhounds, and more greyhounds. I love being in town on "Greyhound Weekend." I am a huge animal lover, and Greyhound Weekend always lifts my spirits and makes me wax sentimental about all the kind people in the world who have adopted these former racing dogs, to give them the loving, nurturing homes they always deserved. When I see a pet in public, I’m worse than a five-year-old. Nauseating baby talk begins to ooze from my lips, I get a really goofy smile, and I ask, "Is he friendly?" I usually don’t bother to wait for an answer before I extend my hand to pet the pooch. Fortunately, I’ve always drawn back five fingers, so I must be a pretty good judge of canine character.

You usually see dogs in public—not many people take their ferrets, hamsters, or pet pythons out for a Sunday afternoon walk. Still, a few weeks ago, on the Rehoboth boardwalk, my boyfriend and I saw what had to be the queerest cat in the world. No, I haven’t developed a keen sense of feline gaydar. I’m talking about his amazing cat-hat that would have done Minnie Pearl proud, a feline-sized tan hat bejeweled and covered in flowers and little scarves that hung down around the kitty’s shoulders. His owner was attempting to walk the boardwalk holding the cat, but she couldn’t make it half a block without someone walking over to her to examine the spectacle. My cat would be chasing seagulls like mad if I ever took him to the beach, but this well-mannered kitty was very content (and unafraid) snuggled in his owner’s arms. When I petted him, he leaned over and licked my finger, and I practically melted and thought, "This cat is too adorable and just too precious NOT to be gay!"

Truth be told, I’ve never had a dog, cat, or parakeet come out to me, so I wonder if the "one in ten" rule holds true in the animal kingdom. Not long ago, two male penguins living in a zoo in upstate New York, I believe, made national headlines for their apparent homosexuality. These two penguins had picked each other as mates, it seemed, and have been together for several years. According to penguin experts who studied them, these two male penguins treated each other exactly the way heterosexual penguin mates would. They ate together, played together, cleaned each other, and even built a nest together. Experts did not mention whether or not the two have plans to adopt or to migrate to Canada to marry, but I figure it’s probably pretty good penguin weather up there.

Animals have been taking a lot of my time lately—three feisty felines, in particular. In September, my friend Connie and I moved into an apartment together. She has two cats; I have one. For those readers unfamiliar with the mathematical equations of the animal kingdom, let me assure you that 2 docile female cats who’ve known each other for 3 years + 1 strange male cat with more energy than a Red Bull addict = UTTER CHAOS. Lillith and Eva, Connie’s cats, and Stubbs, my kitty, confirm the old adage, "Three’s a crowd." Lillith and Eva want nothing to do with Stubbs, but being the bubbly little spitfire that he is, Stubbs wants to run and play and join paws and sing Kum Ba Yah. The fur usually starts flying when Stubbs approaches Lillith or Eva, hoping for a spontaneous play date. Lillith and Eva growl and hiss and put their fur up and their ears back, but Stubbs just doesn’t get the message. Before you know it, all you see is a blur of fur and whiskers and eight paws turning circles across the floor. Trust me on this one—you haven’t really lived until you’ve seen (and HEARD) two cats fighting from one end of a three-bedroom apartment to the other.

Animals that attack have been in the news a lot lately. One guy was attacked and killed by a bear. He’d spent most of his life as an activist for bears and preserving their natural habitat, and proving that bears do not live up to their aggressive reputation. To this end, he spent a lot of time in wooded areas with large bear populations, until he was attacked and mauled to death by a bear recently. Maybe I’m not staunch enough of an animal lover, but I’m not about to go sleep with bears or run with the bulls or stick my head in a bee’s nest. Besides, true beauty should always be admired from a short distance.

Even as I write this, illusionist Roy of Siegfried and Roy fame lies in a hospital bed, fighting for his life from injuries sustained when a tiger attacked him during a recent Las Vegas show. I have no sympathy for anyone attacked by an animal used for

entertainment. Animals are not on this earth for our entertainment, and no matter what anyone says, I cannot believe tigers are happy jumping through hoops and sleeping in cages when their home is a jungle. For this same reason, Uncle Eric will never take his nieces to the circus. Let people dress up like clowns. We have free will, but no lions or tigers or bears grow up dreaming of running off with the circus.

In my experience, GLBT people seem much more sensitive to animals than heterosexuals. Most of the gay men I know are "dog people," even if they do tie bows in their fur, like my friend Michael. (Almost every gay male couple I know, after they’ve settled into a home, begin yearning for a dog, as if a gay biological clock is ticking.) Personally, I tend to be a cat person. I like their independence and their quirky personalities. I also do not like being slobbered all over by anything non-human, so that pretty much rules out dogs for me. Still, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of walking into my apartment after a long day at work and being greeted by purring, meowing, and a little furball bouncing into my lap. Or five thousand greyhounds gracing the streets of Rehoboth once a year.