Old cats and ex-mommy status.
My mom works weekends, because she has her awesomely fabulous bookstore to run (Sam’s Books, in Oldsmar, Florida, if you’re ever in town, please check her out). My birthday is Saturday, and of course this is a busy day for her, so we celebrated together yesterday. My mother is probably the reason I regard birthdays so highly, as she always acts as if mine is a holiday. We went out to lunch, browsed around a bit then went back to her house where she had a piece of vegan cake waiting for me. Man, I love cake. I love cake like a fat kid loves cake. If I ever lose that 20 pounds (that would still keep me in a perfectly normal range, so no, I do not have body dysmorphic whatever) that I’ve been threatening to lose for the last 16 or so years, I’m going unvegan for a day and eating an entire Publix cake. Because Publix has the best freakin’ cakes ever. I also got to grab a big stack of books which means I will probably not get all the things accomplished that I threatened to accomplish on my time off.
Being at my mom’s means I get to hang out with my kitties. Who I realized, are really now her kitties. Although I picked them both out as babies and was their mommy for the majority of their lives, I am only mildly tolerated now.
Fatty, my fat fat fat baby, doesn’t even do our choreographed stretch when I pick him up just the right way anymore. Of course, he IS turning 16 this year. And he wasted no time gaining back all the weight he lost when he almost died of anemia.
The other baby, Little, has never really been anyone’s cat. He keeps to himself. He allowed me to pet him briefly but was quite clear in letting me know that he was only humoring me.
There’s something sad about ex-mommy status, even though I have two boys of my own at home. I would probably be more upset about it if I didn’t take into account the reasons that I didn’t uproot them when I finally moved out of my mom’s house at the ripe old age of 24, those being that I rent (they’ve been freely allowed to scratch everything forever) and I didn’t want to separate them from my mom, who of course is an amazing mother (obvs, you can see how well I turned out). She’s good for them. I’m ok with being the sister. Besides, color-wise, I have an identical set here (black and a tabby). Life is good.
Side note, I got to go through a bunch of old stuff yesterday including my old dance costumes. I wish they still fit. I’m not kidding when I say I would prance around the house in them.
Hey, Happy Birthday! I zipped into your mom’s book store. I immediately noticed the Dick and Jane book on the top shelf. I love the nostalgic illustrations in them. I could spend hours in a book store and do. In Victoria there’s a really great vintage bookstore, the guy running the place is a dead ringer for Johnny Depp in that movie ‘Sleepy Hallow’ where he’s Ichabod Crane…I kid you not. Did you ever give Fatty a different name when he was a kitten? It’s funny how cats will forget who you are after a while. We inherited a cat from my brother and a year later, Paco didn’t want to be picked up by him. I felt so bad, since my bro just loved that cat but couldn’t keep him where he was living. You’re mom’s probably really happy you let them stay but that must have been hard. I couldn’t bare to be without mine. Have a great Birthday Weekend!
My mom specializes in children’s books because she loves them so much. She does not, however, look anything like Johnny Depp. Fatty’s real name is Chaos, but once he started chubbin’ up, he’s been Fatty to me ever since, although my mom refuses to call him that and refers to him as Big Guy. I like to think that they don’t forget who you are, it’s that they’re holding a grudge. I cried for weeks when I moved out. I went home every weekend. But yeah, it fades, they’re in a good home. And thanks for the b-day wishes!