Mother’s Day dinner at my parents house is always interesting. Being the only non-mom at the table never works to my benefit. I help my Dad cook, I do the dishes and when we play cards and my mother tells us that we need to “let a mom win”, I play along.
I’d like to think that being the mom to a bitchy kitty should count for something. Maybe not the same level as being allowed to win at playing cards, but you know, something. I have kept this creature alive for seven years after all. My Dad did try to make me feel like I was part of the lucky “mom group” but it backfired horribly.
Dad – “Happy Mother’s Day. Your cat is lucky to have you.”
Mom – “Yes she is. Nobody else could love that cat. If you died we would never find anyone to adopt her.”
Me – “If I died YOU guys would adopt her.”
Mom, Dad, and sister in unison -”Noooooooo.”
Mom – “She wouldn’t be happy here. She never warms up to anyone. Face it she is pure evil. You just better stay healthy and not die.”
Me – “Um, she would be happier living here than being put down.”
Mom – “Now how do you know that? I’m sure kitty heaven is quite nice. She actually might prefer that to living here.”
Yes, happy Mother’s Day to me indeed. I can’t imagine my parents ever saying that about one of their human grandchildren. Apparently being a cat-mother counts for exactly squat. But on the bright side, if I die at least I know my cat will soon be coming to keep me company.