I’m sorry that I didn’t write a newsletter yesterday. My kitchen has been undergoing renovation because there was a leak behind the faucet? I don’t know. But, they spent all Monday clinking and clanking and banging in the kitchen. I had to take a step away on Tuesday to take Che to the vet.
Caretaking has become hard again. There’s ebbs and flows, just like in almost anything. But, as my own health is up for debate as I await undergoing this hysteroscopy (please no horror stories). Caretaking has made me increasingly resentful.
Che is my cat. Was my cat. Che arrived at my mom’s house while I was still living there in 2007. And he was definitely my cat. We were bonded. After I graduated culinary school and moved back to the city full-time, my new apartment didn’t allow pets. Then you’re at risk of making the decision of having a pet live with you in secrecy, or just abiding by the rules. When it comes to losing your home, I just abide by the rules. Che stayed with my mom and the other three indoor cats she had at the time. Plus, I almost literally killed Che once by accidentally giving him a dog’s dose of liquid flea medication! I was in no way a responsible cat owner. It made way more sense for Che to remain with Mami.
Cut to last week. Che is now 17. My mom’s house is the only house he knows. For months, I noticed he was limping. I asked her about it. She said it was nothing. Plot twist, it was indeed not nothing, he had a nail so ingrown it was growing into the paw pad. Being the gentlemen he is, he never once complained. He just silently limped around for a month. I took him to the emergency vet. They fixed him up like new, no issues!
Che has always been a smaller cat. Never toppling over nine pounds. I also noticed he was getting thinner and thinner. I asked her about it. “He’s just old.” According to the emergency vet, they’re also concerned about his weight. I take him (and my mom) to his regular vet. A vet that specifically only focuses on felines. They have been his vet since I was his primary caretaker. If I’m going to pay, I might as well pay for the best that is offered to us. They check him out. Possible hyper thyroid. Which is treatable. Run some tests. We’ll know in a few days.
Here’s what I did find out. While Mami, me, the Vet and the tech were all in the room, the vet takes a little flea comb and runs it through Che’s fur. “Oh, yeah. He’s got a lot of fleas,” she says. She places a lump of fur, with fleas and flea poop onto the scale, “SNAP!” is the sound it makes as she chops the flea in half with her nail.
I turn and look at Mami in horror and shock. Trying not to go Full Metal Jacket on this breezy in front of mixed company. The vet asks, “What type of flea medication do you use?” “Advantage,” Mami replies. The vet goes on to say that they’ve been seeing an increase in Advantage, Frontline and other flea medications not working any more and she suggests a prescription flea medicine. “If you have another cat, you’ll have to bring them here and get the flea medication prescribed. You’ll also have to clean all of the bedding and vacuum the entire house. Until then, Advantage will work temporarily just until we get this all figured out.”
I jump into the conversation and ask Mami, “When is the last time you gave them flea medication?” Mami starts to ponder and responds, “I couldn’t even tell you.” I had no choice but to walk out of that room. I sat in my car and looked up where I could purchase Advantage, just to have something temporary…and started to cry.
Y’all. I just don’t know how much more one is expected to care for. Me, my partner, our cat, my mom, the new (and wonderful addition) of my goddaughter and now Mami’s cats?!
Mami came out to the parking lot and I jumped down her throat. “Why haven’t you been giving them the flea medication? I pay for it. You drive yourself to the thrift store in that area, you can’t drive yourself to the PetSmart? What do you do that requires so much of your time? You don’t work. You don’t cook. You don’t clean. What is it that you actually do that you feel too tired to care for those cats?” “You know, I just haven’t been right in my mind,” she says.
Excuse me, but I call bullshit. I’m not saying she hasn’t been depressed since my grandma died. But, I’m actually getting to the point where I am no longer being sympathetic to that. I’m fucking over it. There’s no denying that Mami’s has let her house go to shit since I moved out, because I was doing most of the upkeep. There’s no denying that her diet has gone to shit since I moved out, because I did most of the cooking. I was her fucking slave. And now her house is hindering on some very “horderistic” tendencies.
When we get in the car to leave, Mami asks, “Can we get something to eat?” I turned and looked at her and said, “Are you fucking serious?” “Taco Bell would be fine,” she states. I took her there, because I’m a punk ass buster who has issues saying “no” even during the most infuriated state. I get her the food, I definitely don’t get anything for me, and drive her home. I don’t even turn the car off. She gets out and doesn’t say anything. I yell, “bye!” And she softly responds, “see ya.”
Like, I’m the villain?! You’re not going to say goodbye and talk to me because of what just happened? Ok. Yeah.
I’ve decided to remove Che from Mami’s house and bring him home. Hopefully, I can start the process of introducing him to Pavo and they get along.
Honestly, I just want to go “no contact” with Mami for a good long while.
What's the saying, "America doesn't have a social security net, it has women." I just went through a lot of this with my mom and had a sibling who acted as the (exhausted/burned out) 24/7 home health aide. Sympathy and solidarity to you, draw a boundary for yourself and get the cat the help/care that he needs.
I hear you. It's so exhausting and when it drags on...being one of the in between generations who have kids/animals/parents to take care of. Even harder when you have a complicated relationship with your parent(s). My mom has late stage Alzheimers and all the unpleasant behaviors that made us not have a relationship when I was younger are amplified. My dad is in Hospice and is expected to die anytime, in fact he wants to go, he's done. Neither of them were good parents to me when I was young, but I (and my family) are the only ones around to care for them now, my dad's kids have no interest because they are self centered assholes like my parents. And there can never be resolution because of who they are and where they are at the end of their lives. But you know what? I do it because that's who I am. That's who my granma's raised me to be. It's fucking hard being the person that handles everything, and so I have learned to set some strong boundaries because if you don't people will suck you dry. You are an amazing woman, doing the best you can. I am sorry that you are going through this. Much love and respect mija!