So far my parents are failing miserably at the little “Grandkid Caretaker Trial Run” test we’ve given them with the cats.
Well, that’s not entirely true. They were going gangbusters for a bit there – building toys, attempting to play chase despite arthritic knees, napping on the floor of the basement in the hopes that Lucy might momentarily leave her hiding place amongst the air-conditioning ducts, occasionally sticking a cat’s head in each other’s mouths to keep up good training, etc.
But things started to take a turn to the ugly last week when Mom called to say, “That Mildred is a bitey little bitch.”
“She bit you? She doesn’t bite. What happened?”
“Well the slut was sprawled out on the edge of bed so I gave her tummy a rub and she started stretching even more, showing off her bits. Then she started to slip off the edge and I knew she couldn’t possibly land on her feet, so I grabbed her foot and pulled her back on. Then the little shit bit me. And when I tried to pet her again, she hissed. We’ll see if she gets HER belly rubbed again.”
“And Lucy?”
“The other one? She likes your dad, though I’ve no idea why. You should see how rough he is with her – but she just eats it right up.”
Then last night, I decided to call for another update.
Mom answered in a chipper tone, “Did you know your cats love Gladiolas?”
“They what?”
“They LOVE Gladiolas. Lucy came upstairs for the first time today and she was standing on the kitchen table gnawing away at the flowers.”
“I’m pretty sure those are poisonous for cats, Mom.”
“Oh shit. Are they really? How do we find out?”
“I’m googling it now. Yup. Toxic. So maybe don’t give them anymore Gladiolas, k Mom?”
“Damnit! Nothing is going to happen to these cats. Not on my watch!”
“They aren’t going to die, Mom. They just might hurl a little.”
“Bob. BOB! Have you seen the cats?”
“Mom, calm down. Just give them a little less food tonight. And put the flowers on the porch.”
So you can imagine that finding a voicemail on my cell phone first thing this morning was a little terrifying.
Mom answered again. “Hello?”
“Which one died?”
“Lucy. Wait. She didn’t die. Elly! But she’s limping. Has that ever happened before?”
“Nope. Exactly how rough is Dad again?”
“She was limping last night and today she won’t put any weight on it. We have a vet appointment at 10:45 this morning. At least she’ll be easier to catch today.”
*sigh*
Oh and I Sprocketed. Turns out time-traveling sea-monkeys shouldn’t have sex. True story.
Author’s note: As per usual, I may have exaggerated. But only slightly. I don’t think Mom actually said anything about Mildred’s bits, but she definitely called her a slut. Repeatedly. Hi Mom!
Oh and just because I like to keep you kids abreast (heh. breast.) of all the frightening images available on the Interwebz, this is what happens when you google “sexy sea-monkey”:
You’re welcome.
I want that sea monkey get-up. On a related note, I keep forgetting to take my meds this week.
Meds schmeds. Halloween is just around the corner.
Perhaps you should invest in those inflatable bumpers they put up in the gutters when kids (or I) bowl. They seem perfect parasite protection when they visit grandfolks!
PS: My parents watched my dog, Noel, for two nights. When I picked her up she was vomitting. Pancreatitis! No one will admit what they fed her, but I blame Dad. He eats original Lays potato chips and has zero ability to resist puppy-eyed beggar dog!
Gladiola flavored potato chips are going to be the next hottest thing. Just wait and see.
That pregnant male sea monkey is TOO MUCH! Hahahaha!
Can there really ever be too much?
Now I am going to have nightmares about pregnant male sea monkeys. Thanks. Thanks a lot.
From my subconscious, to yours.
Tell me you’ve seen the Animal Planet TV show “My Cat From Hell”? NOT saying that about your cats, but the guy on there . . . what’s his name . . . something trippy . . . oh, hell, I’m googling . . . JACKSON GALAXY . . . yeah, doubt that’s real . . . but he’s like a Cesar Milan only for cats and their owners. It might give your parents some good strategies?
I’ll start sending mom instructional videos this afternoon. That should go over HUGE.
When the great Sea Monkey experiment of 2010 went south at our house I noticed that the sea monkeys ALL look pregnant. Just like a naked petulant toddler who leads with their stomach but sports chicken limbs they are all out of proportion.
My limbs are decidedly not chicken like. Clearly I got knocked up by the Terminator.
Not to worry, kids thrive on gladiolas. Pretty sure it’s the ultimate superfood.
As for that picture, I am not turned off of pregnant men for life. And men with protuding and askew nipples. And men.
If I had photoshop on here, I’d put a frowny face on him just for you.
why is that sea monkey wearing a pink bowling pin crown? oh nevermind. pass the gladiolas, the chicken queso burrito i ate tonite was enormous and i could use a little relief.
And now I NEED a burrito.
There are all sorts of grandparents. Maybe your parents could be the sort who just supply a trust fund and leave it at that. Who needs all that nurturing and stuff?
Well seeing as how she slept down there to make sure everyone was ok, I think all dependents will probably survive. So long as my siblings don’t get involved.
Watching cats is worse than watching babies because it’s difficult to diaper them when they have tails.
OK, so where did that person get that costume? I gotta get me one of those.
Minus the nipples, that would make a great Easter outfit for an infant, don’t you think?
I just hope your mom doesn’t call the baby a slut. It might stick as a nickname.
Oh my, I wonder if it lactates? Hmmm… no, no on second thought, I don’t!
Cats though, if they ever even suspect you *might* have thought about crossing them, it’s curtains for you.