She Got Jealous of Me… Over a Cat
I never imagined I’d end up in such an absurd—if not downright ridiculous—situation. Mum and I call each other every day, sometimes even twice: once in the morning and once in the evening. But for the past two days, she hadn’t picked up—either declining my calls or just ignoring them. I started to worry. I was about to drive over to her place in case something was wrong with her phone. She’d gotten a new smartphone for Mother’s Day, a gift from my husband James, but she’s never been too savvy with gadgets.
Then—a miracle! She finally answered, but her voice was frosty, like I’d walked into a stern bureaucrat’s office:
“Yes, I’m listening.”
“Mum, where have you been? I’ve been going out of my mind! Two days without a word!”
“I’ve been busy. Especially talking about cats,” she said sharply.
At first, I didn’t understand, but then the pieces fell into place. It was all because of our cat. For the past month, we’d been nursing Bella—our sleek black beauty, officially named “Lady Isabella of Windermere” on her pedigree papers. It started with her feeling poorly, then came the vet visits, misdiagnoses, endless injections, pills, treatments, drips—all for nothing. She only got worse, and one clinic nearly finished her off.
Only at the third place did we find a proper vet—calm, experienced, thorough. Scans, tests, examinations… He insisted on surgery. I was terrified. The thought of losing her was unbearable, but I trusted him—and it paid off. Recovery was gruelling: hand-feeding her, giving her water through a syringe, sleeping on the floor beside her so I’d wake if she took a turn. But Bella pulled through. Now she’s eating on her own, using her litter tray, purring, and curling up with us again like nothing happened.
Before Mum got upset, I’d mentioned during a call—almost in passing—how much the treatment cost. And, well, you can imagine the numbers weren’t small. Mum had gasped:
“That’s more than my pension! Have you gone mad?”
The call didn’t end in a fight, but it wasn’t warm either. Something felt off, but I brushed it aside. Clearly, Mum had stewed on it until something in her mind snapped.
When she accused me of being “obsessed” with the cat, I couldn’t hold back:
“Mum… are you jealous of Bella?”
“Don’t be daft! It’s just odd—you spend more on that cat than on your own mother!”
“She was sick, Mum! Was I supposed to put her down? That’d have been cheaper than surgery!”
“That’s not what I meant,” she muttered, already less sure.
“Listen, you know James and I would help in a heartbeat. If you need anything, just say the word—I’ll come over, we’ll sort it. I’ll transfer money, buy whatever you need. You know you come first. But Bella… she’s family too. We love her.”
Her voice softened. The ice thawed, and she said the words I’d been waiting for:
“Well… you do help. Thank you. I just don’t see how anyone spends that much on an animal.”
“Because we love her. And it’s not a competition. We love you both. Let’s agree—just tell me if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll start showing up unannounced to inspect your fridge and medicine cabinet!”
“Emily, please, no inspections,” Mum laughed. “Sorry, I was being silly. Just come over—I’ve missed you.”
“Already on my way,” I smiled. “And you’d better have baked those scones of yours!”
That evening, James and I drove over. Tea, scones, laughter—everything back to normal. And I silently thanked God for my mum: stubborn, sensitive, but so dearly loved. As for Bella, she’s fine now. And I pray it stays that way.
