Kristin, feel better soon.

Sending vibes to Fay for her travel plans hopes.

{{{{Barb}}}}

Ugh, Barb. I hate that. I hope you can unclench.

{{{beth}}}

Oh, yes, beth, I'm sorry you are hurting still from losing Percy. And I'm sorry I didn't say anything when you mentioned crying for him. But it is no surprise. It does hurt. It will hurt. You have lost a member of your family.

One of the hardest things about losing pets is that there is so little general support in society for the grief. There is no public ritual, no chance to take time away from work and the other demands of life to devote to mourning. And there are far too many people out there whose instinct for comfort in this matter go something like this: "Geez, you're still crying over that cat? If you miss him that much, you can always get another one." Maybe not everyone here really understands, but at least no one here would deny you your feelings. So it is safe to grieve here.

I honestly think if anyone reacted like that to me when I'd been grieving over one of my pets, they would have found themselves in the ER, having their teeth extracted from their throat.

Seriously-- that is so incredibly rageful to me, because it's not even about the pet, although of course it IS, but it's about basic human decency and respect for what's important to an individual.

And thanks for the hugs, guys-- I'm kind of at a loss here. I know the game she's playing; she's asking roundabout questions so she can paint me as the bad guy this holiday season, because she has no intention of coming up here, because she "can't" leave my father since he's all alone and doesn't have anyone.

Prime example-- she buys Nate a Hess truck every year. It's her ritual. She bought it last week and asked me what she should do with it. Since, when she comes to visit, she usually takes the bus, I said, "Why don't you just mail it, Mom?"

Now, I knew damned good and well what she was really asking was "Do you want me to come up for Christmas," but I wasn't going to play the game. To me, mailing the truck is simply mailing the damned truck. One less thing to pack into the luggage and schlep on the bus. To her, telling her to mail it is "Well, Barbara doesn't want me to come up for Christmas."

Which makes it all very convenient for her. If I'm the bad guy, then she's free to stay home with my father and it's because it's what I wanted.

What she really wants is for me to say, "Oh yeah, it's fine-- he can come to."

Yeah, gates of Hell will ice over before THAT happens and she knows it.

Anyway you slice it, I'm the bad guy in the scenario and she gets to play Joan of Arc.

I'm now in a Holiday Inn Express in Lodi, CA.

"I rode in on a Greyhound; I'll be walking out if I go"

We don't need any life imitating art here.

"Geez, you're still crying over that cat? If you miss him that much, you can always get another one."

There is a place in hell for those people. I lost three pets had had for 13+ years over the space of 18 months, and I was a wreck for months. I started crying over stupid things; I thought I saw them out of the corner of my eye; I dreamed they were alive but I had forgotten to feed them. People kept saying, "Just get another pet," and I thought, "How can I face that again?" Anyway, Beth, you and Matt are in my thoughts.

{{beth + Matt}}

There is a place in hell for those people.

Wrod. Pets cannot be replaced any more than I could replace any other member of my family by going out and adopting a new one. They are individuals and unique in what they contribute to the dynamic of any family -- and I think people who don't live with animals miss this part.

Barb, I hope your mother remembers how it all ended for Joan.

Joan of Arc is on a stake in the square, flames licking and hissing around her. She speaks....

JoA: Is this Hell?

Dude: Nope. Still France.

Barb, after nearly a decade of working in group homes where there are any number of variations on residents manipulating staff for their own entertainment, I have mastered the art of non-committal responses. Too bad you didn't know you were being set up beforehand so you reply with, "What would you like to do with it?" or "It's your choice", "Whatever you think is best", in a cheerful, pleasant, tone (repeat as needed, ad infinitum, same cheerful, pleasant tone as patient the 30th time the question is asked as the first time. That cheerful, pleasant tone can be like a brick wall for defense sometimes, especially when a resident is trying to make us loose our shit and get us in trouble (or they are looking for an excuse to have behaviors and attack). Same principles apply, I think.

Wrod. Pets cannot be replaced any more than I could replace any other member of my family by going out and adopting a new one. They are individuals and unique in what they contribute to the dynamic of any family -- and I think people who don't live with animals miss this part.

Sparky speaks for me. Grief is grief.

Bless you Beth. I hope your journey through this pain moves along and that you reach the place where your memories are warm rather than sharp.

Andi, I did know-- and I knew exactly where she was going with it. (And I did preface and follow up my original response with-- whatever makes you most comfortable, Mom.) I just wanted to see (for my own sick fascination) how far she's willing to play this.

She may have long been a master of this game, but I'm a very apt pupil and I actually have a lot more patience. I also have the benefit, if you can call it that, of being the baby, and in some ways, my mother still sees me that way. She's continually shocked by how much I can pick up via intuition and reading between the lines.

And while I despise game playing of this nature and generally refuse to engage, sometimes, turning her own tables on her is the only way to get her to see her behavior-- if only for a split second. Sadly, in this case, I don't think it's really going to matter. In her mind, she's got her second chance with the love of her life-- never mind that it's assing everyone else around her.