Mom’s at it again. She’s acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum. For the stupidest reason.
Our dog has a skin condition that, every time the weather gets hot, sores from a fungal infection appear. The treatment is bathing with medicated shampoo and athlete’s foot cream directly to the sores.
Since mom arrived, she’s been telling me not to worry, that she’s going to bathe the dog. Every morning she says ‘I’m going to do it today.’ Every evening, when I come back from work, she says ‘I was busy today so I’m going to do it tomorrow.’
This morning I saw that his sores had drastically spread. It doesn’t matter if I put medication on: he’s dirty, with hard crusts covering the sores. I decided this was the limit.
When I got home to a dirty dog, I walked him and took him straight to the bathroom. She told me to leave him, that she would do it tomorrow and I told her that he was too bad – I couldn’t wait any more.
I didn’t say it in a nasty way: I was pleasant, smiling even. It is my responsibility, after all. I came out of the bathroom to the news that mom was crying in the bedroom, telling Raven to leave but still saying she was fine.
I tried to talk – she didn’t want to; I called her to eat – she said she wasn’t hungry, a typical reaction from her: refusing to eat just like a little child does.
Even Raven is annoyed by it. I decided to serve myself a large dose of whisky and enjoy it instead.
Raven thanked me for not being a downer bitch again. Today is her dad’s birthday and he’s being emo: he hates birthdays. He says they mean you are a year closer to death.
Cheers! I’m still happy, sexy mamma!