on the limits of childhood empathy

[flea]

My mother called in distress - her cat Henry has swallowed a plastic object. He's had a laxative, but the odds of that working are slim. If it doesn't work, she faces the choice of $3,000 surgery, or putting him to sleep. Thing is, she has exactly this happen maybe 20 months ago, and chose the $3,000 surgery then. The plastic object then was a little piece of some thick bag, like a ziplock, which presumably he chewed into.

I told the story to the family at dinner, with a little eliding of exactly how Henry might die, but I said he might die. And Casper said, "That would be GREAT! Henry always growls at me." Well, he does, but still. She's a hard-hearted little thing.

Dillo is very shy about his birthday party, which we have begun to mention. We delivered invitations today, by hand to our neighbors. I hope he is not overwhelmed by the actual party; his level of shyness just talking about it is pretty high.

He's gotten more into creative play by himself - arranging little houses and setups. Casper was doing this at 15 months, but Dillo has always been a very different player from Casper. He has a couple of small cars, from Cars, that were originally Casper's - "little Lightning" whom Casper painted with sparkly pink paint, and a Sally car.

Am having the stress and social anxiety of trying to arrange to see peole when we are technically another's guests (i.e. next week). Can I invite my friend and her kids to my mother's house for dinner? Guess I need to ask at a time when she is not in cat-induced distress.

Comments

[veejane.livejournal.com]

She called me in distress too, and I went over this evening and helped excavate the crawlspace in which the cat had relieved himself. Not in a way that indicates his health will improve, just in a nasty, stinky and wet way. (Seriously, she was moving things around to reach me, and handed me a box, and I was like, "Um, this box is moist. And stinky. Um.")

FWIW, I don't like Henry either, and wouldn't mind terribly if he shuffled off to Buffalo. I mean, I know she'd mind it, and I think that's a crappy reason to die, but wow I hate that cat. So Casper comes by her hard-heartedness honestly.

[casperflea.livejournal.com]

She was very grateful for your support.

He's terrible with the kids. Deliberately lies on the stairs so they can't go up or down, and is aggressive with them.

[serrana.livejournal.com]

FWIW, I don't like Henry either, and wouldn't mind terribly if he shuffled off to Buffalo.

*is laughing so hard right now* Is this the east coast equivalent of "he went to live on a farm"?

Herself was really proud of eating the chicken we butchered last year. I think a certain bloodthirstiness is normal in a young person.

[cashmerepett.livejournal.com]

Christopher's grandparents grew up on a farm. He came home one day after visiting and cheerfully answered his mother's question of "what did you do today?" with "Watched 'em cut the nuts off a hog!"

He was pecked by a chicken once gathering eggs with his grandmother and they ate the bird that night for dinner.

Of course, Owen saw his great-grandmother's body laid out at the funeral home and shouted, "WAKE UP, GRANDMA!" before I hustled him out of the room.

[zmayhem.livejournal.com]

He was pecked by a chicken once gathering eggs with his grandmother and they ate the bird that night for dinner.

Occasional This American Life contributor David Rakoff has a brilliant essay about the summer he spent tending to chickens on a kibbutz as a young teen, and how they were so vicious that ever since then he's not only continued to eat chicken, he eats it with abandon and malice.

"WAKE UP, GRANDMA!"

Oh, heh. Oh, ouch.