Late, but he doesn't give a hoot.

My dad doesn't visit this here little blog. Heck, who am I kidding? He doesn't do the Internet. Just as well, probably. Plus, he's in the freakin' Philippines so we completely missed celebrating Father's Day together.
If you read carefully my blog a couple entries back (OK, so I've pretty much lost all seven people that bother to glance at this,) I said I would revisit the deal about my Dad vs. Neighborhood Stray Cats. While it may rile you up, keep in mind that my Dad is, in general, an awesome dude. Who is OLD SCHOOL.
My dad's garden is neat. He's not a landscaper so it's a hodge podge of greenery. But it's impressive - multiple rose bushes; rows and rows of orchids; hanging plants of which I don't know the names; an orange tree; lemon trees; apple trees; asian pear trees; callalillies; a persimmon tree; tomato plants; grapevines; eggplants; onions; summer squash; and on and on. Believe you me, it is a pain in the ass to water these plants when he goes on vacation. But that's beside the point. His garden is his pride and joy and he spends a lot of time making it flourish.
My dad hates the neighborhood cats. They poo and pee on his plants which, of course, either makes the plants sick or kills them. The cats also eat the eggs of the birds that decide to nest in the backyard. That really ticks off my dad. Whenever he sees cats getting comfortable in his yard, he goes after them with a waterhose. He also recently rediscovered his slingshot and shoots stones at the cats. Told you he's old school.
Before you get indignant, he never hits the cats. He hurls stones in their direction but never actually hits them. He just wants to scare the bajeezus out of them. And I think he likes shocking me more than anything. I had yelled in protest the first time he told me he used his slingshot on the cats. (Jon laughed.)
As we were leaving for the airport a few weeks ago, we walked through his garden. He wanted to remind me one last time,
"Don't forget to water my plants. Especially if it gets hot. OK?"
"OK," I replied. Then I noticed something. "Hey dad! You put mesh wiring over the soil of your rose bushes!"
"Yes. I'm tired of those damn cats pooping on my soil."
"But I thought you were using your slingshot on them." Me, of course, egging him on.
"I wish I could! Damn cats." Then he looked around. "But I don't want the neighbors seeing me and saying something."
Oh, Daddy.
He really does love animals. This is the same guy who dotes on my pups. He is the one that told me Piko was "... becoming a little lady" when he discovered she had started her period. He also yelled, "She's just a child!" when it looked like she was choking on a chew toy. He had ran to her and thumped her back while trying to pry the toy from her throat. My dad also holds Pili like a baby and whispers inaudible baby talk to her when he thinks no one is listening. He worries that they don't eat enough so he makes them chicken soup and rice, steak, and sometimes, fried rice. He also picks up my pups at noon every weekday so that they aren't alone for too long and puppysits until I pick them up after work.
Ask my nephew. Or if my puppies could talk, I'd tell you to ask Piko or Pili. Because they would all say he's a good Papa. Who's just a tiny bit protective of his garden.