I come from a family of Right Thinking People, it seems -- when my Sylvie-cat went into acute renal failure three years ago, after 14 years of pampering and regular table-scrap feeding and deciding that the best place for a 17-pound Maine Coon to fall asleep was directly on top of her humans' faces while they snoozed, my father made the comment that he "has probably cried more about the cat passing than [he] will when [his] mother dies." My own mother and I were horrified, but amused, and repeated the line all around and snickered and et cetera.
...and then my grandmother passed on last year, and THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED. My father is 61 and has lived through some serious hell, but the only time I've ever seen him cry was over Sylvie. Apparently, we totally like our cats more than we like most people, even those to whom we are closely related. (My parents definitely gave my childhood bedroom to Jasper-the-terror when I moved out. Now, I sleep on a couch when I visit because we can't upset the cat, who has stress-related skin problems and who is on cat antidepressants due to the new neighbors' cats taunting him through the window, and last year he pulled all his fur out in frustration and my mother had to introduce him to the Thanksgiving guests as "This is Jasper, our Ethiopian exchange animal." His front half has grown back to normal, but his rear end is still scraggly, despite my father feeding him tenderized steak on a daily basis and my mother leaving the nature channels on while they're at work so he doesn't get lonely.)
....er, the point of all this is that I ONE-HUNDRED-PERCENT understand your love and devotion to the Min-cat, and she'll be in my kitty thoughts as Jasper and I duke it out for the honor of sleeping on an actual mattress tonight.
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Date: 2008-03-02 08:00 am (UTC)...and then my grandmother passed on last year, and THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED. My father is 61 and has lived through some serious hell, but the only time I've ever seen him cry was over Sylvie. Apparently, we totally like our cats more than we like most people, even those to whom we are closely related. (My parents definitely gave my childhood bedroom to Jasper-the-terror when I moved out. Now, I sleep on a couch when I visit because we can't upset the cat, who has stress-related skin problems and who is on cat antidepressants due to the new neighbors' cats taunting him through the window, and last year he pulled all his fur out in frustration and my mother had to introduce him to the Thanksgiving guests as "This is Jasper, our Ethiopian exchange animal." His front half has grown back to normal, but his rear end is still scraggly, despite my father feeding him tenderized steak on a daily basis and my mother leaving the nature channels on while they're at work so he doesn't get lonely.)
....er, the point of all this is that I ONE-HUNDRED-PERCENT understand your love and devotion to the Min-cat, and she'll be in my kitty thoughts as Jasper and I duke it out for the honor of sleeping on an actual mattress tonight.