This time, it’s my granny’s cats, Sweetie Pie and Ozzie. Mom goes down to Granny’s just about every evening. Mom reads out loud, or she and Granny watch television or videos.
Oh, I have to tell you this: Granny is Mom’s mom, so Granny’s cats ought to be Mom’s sisters and brothers, right? Well, Mom calls herself Sweetie Pie’s GRANDMA. So Granny said, “What about Ozzie? Are you his grandma, too?” And Mom said, “No, I’m his grandpa, ’cause he’s a boy.”
Little bit strange? You think?
Well, she went to Granny’s, and Sweetie Pie had taken over her chair. Mom couldn’t sit on the couch — Oh, no, she had to sit in her chair. Not that she bought it or anything. But she had to sit in the chair she always sits in, because, to be honest, there’s just a touch of Mr. Monk in my mom.
Sweetie Pie weights about 400 pounds (in cat weight), and Mom has a rickety back, so she didn’t want to try to move the mountain, so she just sat down in her chair. Yes, Sweetie Pie moved. No, she didn’t flatten out like cartoon cat that’s been gone over by a steam-roller. Don’t say things like that about my mom — insulting my mom is MY job, and nobody else better try it!
Mom also wore her favorite jacket to Granny’s. Mom’s friend (and mine) Jane gave her this jacket; it’s very warm, black on one side and pink on the other side, the colors of that sappy-happy Hello Kitty Mom is so crazy about. Mom took it off, and Ozzie curled up on it, so Mom left it there. And he hocked up a hairball on it. Mom knew it was his, because it was Ozzie-colored. Again, hocking up hairballs on Mom’s stuff is MY job, although I usually prefer to leave my gifts for Charlie.
A WRITING PROMPT FOR ANIMALS: A human almost sits on you. What do you do?