Viva la Discovery Channel!

I do not like animals.

That is not news to anyone who knows me. In fact, I am not a particularly warm, gushy, overly ga-ga person in general. More than one well-meaning person in my past has commented that it seems so inconsistent with my personality that I have absolutely NO space in my heart for animals.

I can't explain it except to say that the smell/hair/wetness/poop issues pretty much outweigh any twinges of perceived adorableness.

Certainly, I don't go out of my way to harm them. No, I leave that to Brad who offered our kids 25 cents for each rabbit they killed in our backyard last year. (Before you go calling the humane society, it would have actually aligned the food chain to rid our neighborhood of 75% of these cottontails).

One of my former neighbors, who was so devoted to animal rescue that she saved a BULL SNAKE who happened to be in the street IN FRONT OF MY HOUSE where snakes have no business, was thoroughly and publicly appalled at Brad's Bunny Bounty, but even she did not call the authorities.

Also, no bunnies were actually ever killed, seeing as they were twice as fast as my toddlers who chased after them using plastic golf clubs and Rescue Heroes.

I digress.

So the other night we were flipping through the channels and happened upon "March of the Penguins." OH MY GOSH. Have you seen it?

I have now watched it twice. Since Sunday.

I never would have paid $9.75 to watch a documentary in the theater about my least favorite continent and it's inhabitants, but 10 minutes into this show and I was almost teary over these dang penguins!

Y'all, it is simply amazing.

There is no plot line except that they march across the frozen ice to find their mates, have babies, and go back. There, that's it. I've just ruined it for you.

But wait, there's more!

Brad and I were captivated far beyond our usual Towering Standards of Physical Comedy while watching these indistinguishable creatures waddle, slide on their bellies, fall in love, feed their young, and swim around a whole bunch.

They have one mate each season and exactly one baby. (If the egg survives, and that is a whole 'nother documentary. Also, I am not sure if twins can be born out of the same egg since I didn't pay much attention during science class, but this movie doesn't address twin penguins.)

I am swallowing all pride and my putting non-animal loving reputation on the line to tell you I almost cried in TWO SEPARATE PARTS. (I am not sure I should tell you what they are in case you are on Netflix right this instant, putting "March of the Penguins" at the top of your queue and praying they have it in stock so you can watch it tomorrow.)

Night one of Penguin Viewing, we started watching around 11 p.m. and both fell asleep half way through.

We are laying in bed, groggy with sleep the next morning:

"Oh no. Brad!"

"What?"

"The penguins!"

"Oh my gosh, I fell asleep."

"Shoot, I did, too!!"

Then we cried out in unison: "HOW WILL WE EVER KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM !?!?"

"Did the seagull eat the baby?"

"I don't know, what happened to the egg?"

And then we talked about the penguins for TEN MINUTES. Could. not. stop.

So God's graciousness kicked in the next day when again, we were flipping channels during Sunday Night Football and we found them.

On Animal Planet.

We threw caution to the wind, forgot about football, and watched the rest of the penguin story.

I felt almost as passionately about the safety and cuteness of those little penguins as I do my own young. There was a tense moment when one little furball couldn't find his Mommy and I wanted to issue an Amber Alert and lock down the doors like they do at Target until he was safe.

Instead, I exhaled deeply and continued watching...

With the ending resolved, I slept much better that night and so did Brad.

Although I am not asking for a penguin this Christmas, I will spend some extra time with them at the zoo on my next visit and stop making fun of the Discovery Channel.