Mom Says “Kill the Cat”

Posted on March 14, 2003 in Cats

With apologies to Artichoke Heart for infringing on her schtick.

Every time my mother — bless her soul — comes to visit us, she asks us why we’re letting Tracy live so long. Yesterday she came by to attempt to conscipt me into driving her to a funeral. When she saw Tracy’s softball sized belly, this conversation transpired:

Mom: That cat’s got a tumor.

Joel: Oh, is that why her belly is so big?

Mom: Are you going to put her to sleep soon?

Joel: She doesn’t seem to be in any pain. When the time is right, we will do it. Her appetite is still good and she knows where she is.

Mom: Brandy’s appetite was good to the end.

[Here I bend over and run my hand over Tracy’s bony spine. Either she has no clue as to what we are saying or she’s putting up a good dumb animal act.]

Mom: Brandy had a tumor. I let Brandy go too long. The tumor got too big and ruptured. There was blood all over the place.

Joel: When that happens, we’ll put her down.

Mom: Don’t wait. She’s going to explode.

We’re going to wait. Lynn said when I related this to her: “She’s still reasonably enjoying life. There’s no hurry.”

Before we went to the store, she checked to make sure that we had enough toilet paper and paper towels. Can’t be too prepared when the old beast does her Hindenberg routine.

Virginia is only eight. Mom’s already asking if we’re planning to get rid of her after Tracy dies.

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Question: Does anyone doubt after reading this why, when you add the factor that I suffer from diabetes and hereditary depression, why I am so screwed up? OK, it doesn’t justify beating on people, but please: give me a break now and then, OK?