They have three children. Eight grandchildren. They regularly go to the orchestra and Phillies games. They travel to Marine Corps reunions. They are active at church.
But the only thing they talk about are gas prices. And their cat. That explains a lot. Like despite the fact that I called my mom Saturday to tell her that my dad's cousin had died she didn't tell him until Wednesday. Who can deliberate over dead cousins when there's so much feline diabetes to discuss?
As an aside, it is odd that I was informing my parents about my dad's dead relative. We'll explore the rationale another day. And sure, I could have told my dad myself and ensured delivery of the message. But in the wake of my mom's illness I'm having trouble giving my dad bad news. It's probably something I should see a qualified mental health professional for, but I'm finding alcohol, lava cakes, and bingeing Homeland to be a much more palatable remedy. Many thanks to Friend Beta1 for arduously pushing me to watch.
Anyway, Lightning is 17. My now-deceased cat, Lady, begat King and Splash-Face. King and Splash-Face begat Lightning. So yes, Lightning is the product of a sexual liaison between Lady's son and Lady's daughter.
Don't judge. They were from two different litters.
My parents' daily schedule revolves around Lightning. I'm not saying that this dynamic is bad, exactly, nor do I have the standing to do so. The ashes of my dead animals are in my bar and Husband once thought I was having a conversation with him when in fact I was talking to the guinea pig.
I'm just saying that I'm jealous. Of my parents' cat.
I needed a ride home after my appendectomy. My mom asked if I could wait until after Thanksgiving dinner. The meal wasn't even starting for another 7 hours. But when Lightning wants to be pet, they stop whatever they're doing - dishes/Play-Doh with the grands/working on a lecture - to accommodate him.
When I drank one of my dad's beers and didn't replace it he hauled me by my collar to the fridge and gave me a stern dressing-down. I was an adult. I didn't even live at home anymore. But Lightning nuzzles my dad so intensely at night there's holes in the armpits of my dad's pajamas, and nothing ever gets said to him.
I'm not saying Lightning should get a lecture. It just would have been nice to have been treated like a guest. Even if I did drink a Marine's beer. Without permission. Or having it offered. Or replacing it.
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| The other pic I had of Lightning depicted Niece playing with him. You know, I don't think the best place for the toddler to play is next to the litter box. |
Years ago, while I was cat-sitting, my dad called me and asked how his "baby" was.
I thought he meant me, or maybe the grandchild I was pregnant with at the time.
I was wrong. Which I guess is fair. I mean, Lightning never drank his beer and neglected to replace it. But then, my dad only cleaned up my poop for two years. Lightning is working on two decades.
Now on another day, my dad butt-dialed me. Lightning was clearly upset - I could hear his caterwauling through the phone. My dad reassured Lightning that he was "getting" whatever it was that Lightning needed and that Lightning just needed to be "patient". He went on, talking to his "baby" for several minutes. My dad doesn't talk to anyone for several minutes. I'm thinking the way to get him to open up is to bring a six-pack and nibble his PJ's. But I'm kind of afraid to try.
This just begs the question as to what my relationship is with Lightning. I generally consider my parents' and in-laws' pets to be my siblings, as the pets are the parents' fur kids. Which makes my kids the pets' niece and nephew. But calling him "Uncle Lightning" is weird. Not as weird as my mom stopping one of her post-hospitalization drugs because the cat kept getting to it first, or Lightning catching fleas from my dad, but weird nonetheless.
Lightning and I have a bit of rivalry, like any siblings. And, like most sibling rivalries, one of us is completely oblivious to what he is doing to incur anger. Like a typical favored child, he never realizes the slights to the other children, or his role in the situation. He'll probably be the one with the fully parentally funded wedding.
Not that he'll remember it. My parents believe Lightning has dementia. If he finds himself alone in a room, he will wail incessantly until he sees one of his humans.
So last week, when I was called in to babysit my sister's kids for my parents - blog for another day - I helpfully pointed out that Lightning did not cry once until my parents came home. It was an incredibly sad, desperate attempt on my part to curry favor.
My mom asked Lightning about the veracity of my statement (typical!) But watching, I was glad that this orphaned, consanguineous cat was able to find parents, even if they had been mine first. Having nearly been partially orphaned myself four months ago, I could respect Lightning for muscling in on my territory.
I still stole a beer on my way out though.
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