The ‘M’ word
Back at the vet on Monday for the three-monthly blood tests and quick panic over a weird lump on the cat's back. I can't watch them take the blood any more, it's too damn traumatic with the struggling and the rowling, so I turn away while they pin him down and stick a needle in his neck. Then, when it's all over, the vet nurse hands El Mog back to me with the words "there you are, go back to your mummy".
Ah. The 'M' word. Being completely ambivalent to children of the human kind, my cat is not a baby substitute (though I suppose it might be possible to construct a convincing argument that it's a boyfriend substitute, but that would simply earn you a punch in the face). Flatmate, fuzzinator, lap-warmer, arse-pain and terrifyer, yes. But I don't think any of these earn me the moniker 'mummy'.
I avoid using 'mummy' at all costs. In conversations with my cat (because that's what happens when you live on your own, you start talking to your cat) I use 'you' and 'me'; when I'm forced to refer to myself in the third person (say, because I've got a hangover and have stayed in bed much longer than I should've and am late for an injection) it's along the lines of "yes, I'm a terrible cat owner" (and before anyone says anything, I'm aware that 'cat owner' is an oxymoron. Did I mention I'm usually hungover when such things slip out of my mouth?).
I have a real, knee-jerk aversion to being called 'mummy'. It's probably deeply Freudian but I don't give much of a shit (Freud again, hello). Just wanted to you know this. Thanks for listening. It's appreciated.
(Where did this 'mummy' stuff, in relation to pets, come from anyway? Does everyone do the mummy/daddy thing? And if you do, don't you find it just a bit, you know, weird?)