Gordo and Fletcher

We have always been a cat family. At one point, we had seven of them. I grew up always choosing cats over dogs without even a thought about it. When Phoebe started posting propaganda around the house, trying to convince my parents to get dogs, I was pretty surprised. I never thought we would get dogs. I thought we would stay “Team Cat” for the rest of our lives. When my parents finally gave in, which I think was ten or eleven years ago now, we went two and a half hours away to get one. The plan was one. It was never two, but when we got to the place, which was not the nicest living situation, there were two brothers left. How messed up would it be to separate two brothers? The lady said there were a ton of them, and she was down to the last two. As someone who was not all in on this idea, the thought of separating them was too much for me. It moved me to tears. We named them Gordo and Fletcher. Gordo was very large when we got him, so his name suited him well. Fletcher was close enough to Flaca, the Spanish word for skinny, because he was quite tiny. They’ve been through some shit. Car attacks from a reckless driver on Elm Street, arthritis, depression, and pancreas issues top the list. Originally, Phoebe’s propaganda stated she would be the main caretaker. Through the years, it has slowly become more and more of a pain in the ass to take care of them. They don’t like me very much. I don’t give them enough attention. They are in love with my mom. She gives them so much undivided love and attention. She walks them most of the time, she feeds them most of the time, and she cuddles them on the couch. They are sweet animals, a little stupid for my liking, but they aren’t terrible. When my mom leaves and we need to take care of them, it does become a hassle. I’m so used to walking them once or maybe twice a week normally. When it becomes walking and feeding them every other day, I start to forget and lose track of time. I feel bad for them. When my mom went to Japan, I think we did a really good job of making sure they were okay. Now that my mom is gone again, I think we are doing a great job again. It’s hard. It really makes me grateful for how much my mom does for our animals. Happy Monday, everyone!