My Brother Vinnie
I'm a little uncomfortable that Mom refers to her cats, Vinnie and Sadie as her children. That makes them my siblings. They have unfair advantages. I'm not saying that I want to live with Mom, but I wouldn't mind if she bought my food or paid for my haircuts or gave me drugs.
Mom sends me updates about my furry sibling's lives. Here is an excerpt:
"E brought over some catnip the other night which led to Vin becoming a complete crackhead. I gave him a little taste of it and put the rest away in a bag which I placed in the bowl on the entryway table. In the middle of the night Sadie woke me up to let me know something wasn't quite right downstairs. I listened and heard a bunch of paper rustling, snuffling, groaning and flopping about. I went down and found Vin totally messed up, drooling--catnip spread all over, bits of paper bag caught in his hair--disgusting. This tells me Vinnie is not capable of social using--has to be cut off."
I remember when Mom found me like that once. I was grounded and had to promise to never hang out with certain friends ever again. Their parents were called. I had to attend a weekly meeting for the duration of my punishment. I couldn't drive my car. I couldn't go to the mall. No phone calls that weren't related to school. Vinnie is getting off easy.
The real reason for her email was that she was shamed by the vet. Vinnie is too fat for his carrier. I imagine that Mom puts Vinnie's tail and hind legs in first and then must use her foot to stuff the rest of the 30 pound cat into the Kitty Kaddy. The vet made Mom feel like a bad mother for making her feline child obese.
I told Mom to march right back into the vet's office and tell her daughter is well below her BMI so it balances it out. Mom said she wasn't sure that was helpful, and also the vet was kind of mean. "Mom," I said, "she's a VET. She doesn't know anything about people!"