Mom, the Cat Killer

I just got off the phone with my son’s school principal. Apparently Frankie was crying hysterically in the schoolyard because “My mom’s going to kill my cats!”

Backing up….

No one likes to clean the cat litter. Certainly I don’t. But we’ve made it a condition of their receiving allowance that the children clean the litter daily. Rarely does it get done daily, though. I usually end up having to clean it. (Arthur, who doesn’t want the cats to begin with, would NEVER do it).

Well, it had been about 3 days, and the litter had still not been cleaned, so I sent Frankie down to do it before he went to school. Well, the level of pissing and moaning and griping all the way down the stairs annoyed me to no end this morning. I grabbed the bag from him and told him that I was sick of hearing it, that I’d do it, and that he wouldn’t be seeing any allowance ever again. And then, (because I am a drama queen, a slave to my emotions, and the champion of Catholic guilt) yelled up to Arthur, “Just get the cats put down today. No one wants to take care of them here, and no one wants to adopt them*. Just get rid of them.”

I admit that it was a horrible, horrible thing to say. Arthur knew that I didn’t mean it, and I was sorry the minute it escaped from my mouth. But, I didn't apologize, and I should have.

Well, the school calls to tell me that Frankie is in hysterics that his mom is going to kill his cats, that they won’t be there when he gets home, and that it’s all his fault. He’s also not impressed that he won’t be getting any allowance. He is, as you can tell, as dramatic and emotional as his dear mother.

I had to “talk him down” by assuring him that, indeed, I wasn’t going to have the cats killed, and that I was very, very sorry that I had threatened it. I kept saying “Mommy’s really sorry” over and over again, while my co-workers killed themselves laughing.

He informed me that he thinks of the cats as his “sisters”, which makes sense, because he doesn’t treat is human sister very well either.

So, I’ve learned a valuable lesson today, and expect to be on the school’s blacklist of bad parents. I’m wondering if I’ll be getting a visit from Children’s Aid. I'm mortified and feeling like one of the worst parents (and pet owners) ever.

*Arthur and I have agreed that these cats are not what you would call "pets" - they are skittish, feral things, with one being slightly more tame than the other. Pets don't hiss at and claw you when you try to pet them, or try to escape out the door every time you open it. We have been trying to find a farmer who will adopt them as barn cats, but we haven't had any success yet. We have talked about putting them down, but I haven't been able to stomach the idea of doing this.