(Continued from previous post)
Not all our family members look at Frieda with hate in their eyes. Amanda kisses the top of her head. Elizabeth lovingly feeds her after only two reminders.
So, I met considerable resistance when I suggested expelling Frieda from the family—you know the way we used to do things down on the farm—one day there would be five kittens and the next day there were none. A dog knocked my mother off the front step and we never saw him again. My dad loved my mom.
Well, the grandkids left and so did my plans to evict Frieda. But, just as my grandkids are still my grandkids, even though they are growing and playing two provinces away; my desire to end relationship with Frieda is still alive, though squelched.
This desire coughs out like a hairball at odd moments. Among the requests for earrings and books on my birthday wish list, my family found a request for Frieda on a platter at the Waterdown animal shelter. Elizabeth gave me a picture and let me know this would be the extent of the fulfillment of my evil wish.