"Do you have a shovel?"

"Do you have a shovel?" the bespectacled man-boy asked as he walked in the front door unannounced. I had been enjoying a lovely New Year's Eve alone (my favorite way to spend it) and was instantly annoyed.

"Why do you need it?"

"I need it to bury this cat." He held up the large black trash bag he held in his hand. I stood up and silently walked to the garage to find a shovel. He followed me, bag in hand.

My adoptive parents adopt stray cats and children like the SPCA went out of business. But in case I ever get jealous, or frustrated, or annoyed, I am soon reminded of their unconditional and unparalleled love for me. I get all of the benefits, and none of the responsibility of being a caregiver to these other "siblings".

A woman approached me at my brother's graduation party; she knew who I was, but I didn't know her. We wouldn't otherwise be friends, but we share this connection of being loved by the same people. The benefit of this is that I can bring anyone home and they will be loved for who they are. I don't fear inviting people over for dinner. I don't fear inviting an ex-boyfriend to watch everyone get drunk and tell dirty jokes over dinner. I actually look forward to introducing my friends to them; this is a rare and precious gift.

They may not throw anything away, as evidenced by the state of the house and number of pets, but they also don't throw me away, so that's really all I need.