I pretty much love anything that walks, swims, paddles, or flies. (Things that crawl? — they’re called creepy crawlies for a reason.)

So, I love animals, but what I don’t understand is why I’m so infinitely patient with animals, and so impatient – at least by comparison — with humans?

I can forgive animals, particularly my two cats, almost any transgression. How many times have I left dinner at the table to answer the phone and returned to find one of the fur balls up on the table sniffing at my dinner plate… just sniffing?

Did they slurp the chili con carne with their scratchy little tongues, or not? You can’t be sure, so the whole thing goes in the trash. I yelp a half-hearted “You naughty cat!” and a half-hour later they’re sleeping in my lap. But put me at a table with a bunch of humans and if one of them even thinks about taking a French fry off my plate, they could be in serious danger of losing a digit.

It’s not just me … I’ve known men willing to walk their beloved Fido three times a day through heat, snow, even a hurricane, scratch their fat little bellies (the dogs’, not their own) and buy chew-toys ad infinitum; then those same guys can barely muster up the energy to give their wives a five-minute back rub or watch a two-hour chick flick.

And women… they’ll cuddle and coo at their Shitz Su; they’ll stoop in their Jimmy Choos to scoop poo into plastic baggies, but then they’ll give the cold shoulder to their husbands because they watched too much football or forgot to compliment a new hair cut.

I’ve practically killed myself swerving to avoid the tiny lizards that make kamikaze darts across the sidewalk just milli-inches from the wheels of my bike. “Be careful, you little guys!” I call with concern. But to the car-driving humans who veer too close to the yellow line or drive too slowly when I’m in a rush, it’s “Hello!? Wake up, already!”

The armadillo that’s digging up my yard? The raccoon rummaging through the garbage? Instead of plotting to get rid of them, I research ways to create an even more animal-friendly yard, actually hauling in tree logs for “cover” and refusing to clear brush in one corner of my lot because there might be a family of critters living in there.

But let the neighborhood kids think the hill in my yard is way cool for biking down and I’ll march outside and give them the old what for. (C’mon, they could get hurt!)

And, ungrateful wench that I am, I recently complained to a friend that he had left dirt all over my front porch. Um, the guy had been kind enough to come over and scrape down all the wasp nests around my front windows because I was too much of a scaredy-cat to do it myself … and I’m complaining!?

Moles can dig trenches across my lawn and I’ll practically hand them shovels and little trench-light hard-hats, it, but let a kind-hearted human leave a few wasp-hive remnants on the patio in the process of doing me a favor, and I’ve got my hands on my hips in exasperation!

Where’s the love?!

Why does love for our animals grow stronger and more precious with every day they are near to us, yet with the human relationships in our lives, familiarity really does breed contempt … or at least an awful lot of impatience?

Some people say it’s because animals are so “innocent.” But maybe the reason it’s so easy to have patience with animals is because they’d don’t talk back, they don’t disappoint (at least not on purpose), and most of the time they don’t ask for anything except a bit of food and water, patience, and someone to love and be loved by.

That’s what humans want too – basically, at least. So, why is it so hard to give it to them?

That’s my question. If anyone has the answer, let me know.