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07 October 2016
R. Linda:
When Mam divorced me Da, she moved out of the old abode to come here to live with us. In their bedroom for more years than I can remember, there was this bronze urn that at one time had nothing but Irish pennies in it. I was told it was me Da's, given to him by an old flame before he met and married me, Mam. Mam never used it, but me Da put pennies in it for a few years and then it stood at the top of the closet empty all these years out of sight out of mind, my mind in particular.
When Mam moved she left the urn where it was because why would she want it? So I get this phone call from across the pond, it is me Da and he wants to know what for she left him an urn and who be inside it. Further, it has for the past almost two years since she left, been creeping him out.
I, at first, had no idea what he was talking about. Urn? I don't remember an urn. And why should I? I was never frequenting their closet so like I said, out of sight out of mind and really I didn't know where it came from in the first place. I told him I had no clue what he was going on about and then I wondered if it was HIS cat's ashes Mam had put in an urn.
He had a cat, and that cat he put in the cat carrier one day and told me Mam the cat was sick he was going to the vet. Well, seems the cat was sick a lot and every day he would take the cat in the carrier, to the vet. Then one day he told her the cat was still at the vet but he had visiting hours after dark to visit the cat.
Now Mam was not born yesterday and she suspected there was nothing much wrong with the cat but with her husband. She thought he was seeing someone and well he was! His excuse was the cat. Well, seems the other woman was not a cat lover and so the cat suffered, stuck in the carrier, had no water, and probably little food if any, and then the cat really did get sick. By this time the cat was home, the husband was thrown out of the home, and Mam was for real going to the vet.
Once there the cat was diagnosed with malnutrition and so they looked at her very funny. She sighed, shrugged her shoulders and instead of telling them what she thought, she said, "I be not the trooble, it be you. For eight weeks me old man been bringing the cat ta ya, then visiting the cat here at night."
"Hold on Mrs. O'Sullivan," the vet interrupted her. "We have not seen the cat since last year for exam and shots."
"Oh really," Mam feigned surprise. "So me old man was lyin' about the cat was he?"
"Maybe, he brought the cat to another vet." The man said.
"Oh no, no, he tole me it was YOU who was treatin' his old cat, allowin' em' to come after hours to visit the old ting."
"We don't have visiting hours and we are not open after dark." The vet said looking alarmed.
Well, all this just confirmed what she already had reckoned. As it turned out it was a sad story, she nursed the old man's cat until it succumbed as it was beyond help and very old to have been treated so ill. She got rather attached to the thing and was upset the old man never asked after his cat. In the end, she was tempted to be done with everything having to do with the old man and was near to cremating the cat, when she decided instead to give it a proper burial in the back garden. So when I asked her whose ashes were in the urn, she looked at me askance because she didn't know what I was asking her, we discussed the urn to wit she replied, "Oh dat urn."
"Yeah, he said you made the urn in a ceramics class."
"Oh no, no. Dat was from Rita his old flame. It was a terrible job she did on it. Ye could see her heart wasn't in ceramics. It was ugly and it has been in the bedroom closet since we bought the old house. If ye talk to that old slipper tell him it wasn't mine, it was Rita's and his cat's ashes are in it."
"Are they?" I asked.
"Noo, I planted the cat in the garden. But tell em' the cat's in the urn."
"He told me you left it there with someone inside to creep him out. He hasn't looked in it, won't touch it." I said.
"Really? He flatters himself I'd care enough to do sumthin' like dat." Said she. "And he doesn't know me to know who'd be in the urn? Here ye go, me mother was cremated, tell em' the cat and me old mother be in the urn together."
"I can't do that," I said aghast. "Isn't your mother's urn buried?"
"It was last time I looked, but he's so stupid he doesn't seem to realise that. So tell em' wot I tole ye."
And she left the room.
So here I sit, shaking me head, half tempted to do her bidding and creep the old geezer out completely or, be honest Gabe and correct his memory of who the original owner of the urn was or just not call him and leave things as they are.
Gabe
Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved
07 October 2016
R. Linda:
When Mam divorced me Da, she moved out of the old abode to come here to live with us. In their bedroom for more years than I can remember, there was this bronze urn that at one time had nothing but Irish pennies in it. I was told it was me Da's, given to him by an old flame before he met and married me, Mam. Mam never used it, but me Da put pennies in it for a few years and then it stood at the top of the closet empty all these years out of sight out of mind, my mind in particular.
When Mam moved she left the urn where it was because why would she want it? So I get this phone call from across the pond, it is me Da and he wants to know what for she left him an urn and who be inside it. Further, it has for the past almost two years since she left, been creeping him out.
I, at first, had no idea what he was talking about. Urn? I don't remember an urn. And why should I? I was never frequenting their closet so like I said, out of sight out of mind and really I didn't know where it came from in the first place. I told him I had no clue what he was going on about and then I wondered if it was HIS cat's ashes Mam had put in an urn.
He had a cat, and that cat he put in the cat carrier one day and told me Mam the cat was sick he was going to the vet. Well, seems the cat was sick a lot and every day he would take the cat in the carrier, to the vet. Then one day he told her the cat was still at the vet but he had visiting hours after dark to visit the cat.
Now Mam was not born yesterday and she suspected there was nothing much wrong with the cat but with her husband. She thought he was seeing someone and well he was! His excuse was the cat. Well, seems the other woman was not a cat lover and so the cat suffered, stuck in the carrier, had no water, and probably little food if any, and then the cat really did get sick. By this time the cat was home, the husband was thrown out of the home, and Mam was for real going to the vet.
Once there the cat was diagnosed with malnutrition and so they looked at her very funny. She sighed, shrugged her shoulders and instead of telling them what she thought, she said, "I be not the trooble, it be you. For eight weeks me old man been bringing the cat ta ya, then visiting the cat here at night."
"Hold on Mrs. O'Sullivan," the vet interrupted her. "We have not seen the cat since last year for exam and shots."
"Oh really," Mam feigned surprise. "So me old man was lyin' about the cat was he?"
"Maybe, he brought the cat to another vet." The man said.
"Oh no, no, he tole me it was YOU who was treatin' his old cat, allowin' em' to come after hours to visit the old ting."
"We don't have visiting hours and we are not open after dark." The vet said looking alarmed.
Well, all this just confirmed what she already had reckoned. As it turned out it was a sad story, she nursed the old man's cat until it succumbed as it was beyond help and very old to have been treated so ill. She got rather attached to the thing and was upset the old man never asked after his cat. In the end, she was tempted to be done with everything having to do with the old man and was near to cremating the cat, when she decided instead to give it a proper burial in the back garden. So when I asked her whose ashes were in the urn, she looked at me askance because she didn't know what I was asking her, we discussed the urn to wit she replied, "Oh dat urn."
"Yeah, he said you made the urn in a ceramics class."
"Oh no, no. Dat was from Rita his old flame. It was a terrible job she did on it. Ye could see her heart wasn't in ceramics. It was ugly and it has been in the bedroom closet since we bought the old house. If ye talk to that old slipper tell him it wasn't mine, it was Rita's and his cat's ashes are in it."
"Are they?" I asked.
"Noo, I planted the cat in the garden. But tell em' the cat's in the urn."
"He told me you left it there with someone inside to creep him out. He hasn't looked in it, won't touch it." I said.
"Really? He flatters himself I'd care enough to do sumthin' like dat." Said she. "And he doesn't know me to know who'd be in the urn? Here ye go, me mother was cremated, tell em' the cat and me old mother be in the urn together."
"I can't do that," I said aghast. "Isn't your mother's urn buried?"
"It was last time I looked, but he's so stupid he doesn't seem to realise that. So tell em' wot I tole ye."
And she left the room.
So here I sit, shaking me head, half tempted to do her bidding and creep the old geezer out completely or, be honest Gabe and correct his memory of who the original owner of the urn was or just not call him and leave things as they are.
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| Photo of the "creepy urn" taken by the old fart with shaky hands but you get the idea |
Gabe
Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved
3 comments:
LMAO it would have been creepier if your dad had heard voices coming from the urn
so what you're saying is your dad killed the cat in all actuality. i think you should tell him exactly what your mom said to say.
I feel for the cat. That was lousy and he deserves to be creeped out. I'd be tempted to tell him what your mam said, but why bother?
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