My Mom is in full-blown puppy mode, meaning all I hear is baby talk: “YESSYUARE SKIPPER!! YESSYUARE!! DO YOU NEED TO POOP?! DO YOU NEED TO POOP?! YES YOU NEED TO POOP!!”
I’ve told her numerous times the dog doesn’t understand her, but you try telling that to a middle-aged woman with a puppy in her arms and see how far you get.
The other lunacy that has come with our addition of a puppy is the slowly developing dementia I think I see in my Mom.
The cat we have, “Rexy” has now been called “Clover” for the past three days. Clover is the cat that died over a year ago… So if the cat is the dead cat…I’m the son that doesn’t exist. There is at least a 20 second delay before my Mom comes up with my name.
I’ve sort of fizzled out of my parent’s attention, but hey, I’m not complaining.
I got a dog!
Not really, my family purchased a cockapoo. A cocker spaniel and poodle mix. So a cotton ball. I was looking for something to go hand-in-hand with my masculinity, like a German shepherd or something cool, but, Mom was pretty much looking for a cat that barks.
After months of searching of course, we found the right type, found a place to get it, and because it was not necessarily the kind of dog I wanted, it was decided it would have to be a male, and I got to name it.
Couldn’t be too bad.
That all lasted about a 4 minutes into the naming process. Mom wanted to name it “Buddy”. Buddy? It’s like she Google searched “most generic dog names on earth”.
I suggested naming it after my favorite soccer player, Wayne Rooney, and call him Rooney. Dad liked this idea, Mom liked this idea, but pointed out that it was the nick-name of my oldest sister’s ex-boyfriend. Of course.
So my naming rights were pretty much snatched out my hands, and as the topic of dog names was being thrown around my sister’s sorority suite, the name of the Oxford bar “Skipper’s” came back. So now I have a cockapoo named Skipper.
Last child problems….
NO, I am not going to rant about how I’m not loved so I didn’t get squat for Christmas (I was happily satisfied), but let’s just say that others in the family were not as pleased.
Mom got an iPhone. The woman cant turn om the cable for the TV, so the fact that she was given this piece of technology she has no use for and has no idea how to use, was only made more of a sore spot in the fact that the children were the ones to buy it for her. We had no problem buying her good gifts, but the iPhone seemed like a waste of riches.
Sister did not get an iPhone. Sister got expensive luggage so she can study abroad. I guess that a suitcase was not as appealing as the iPhone she hoped for. Without being Kardashian-esque and showing the inner enigmas and machinations of my family, lets just say a lil’ bit of drama unfolded around the Christmas tree.
My parents let my sister mope, I however was not willing to let my sister whine about the short end of the stick.
Hey, I’ve gotten it for 17 years.
But we’re only human, and I’m just the poor ol’ Last Child. Pity me.