Insensitivity

After spending the night at Liz's place, I returned home this afternoon and told Mum the story of Enzi's last night. She said "I'm glad you weren't there to see that, it sounds horrible". I agreed, although I would have liked to say goodbye. I said that although I wasn't there, it was my blanket that comforted him as Tia held him. She asked which blanket I was talking about and I said "you know, the pink woolen one that used to be on my bed; I gave it to Tia when I got my double bed".

All she could say was "What!? That was pure wool. Why did she use that one?"

"Because it was the nearest thing she grabbed", I said. "Well couldn't she have used an old sheet?" she replied. "Mum", I said, now upset, "her dog was dying, do you think she stopped to think about what sheet or blanket she used to comfort him while he was in pain? No one has old sheets lying around in their bedrooms in case of messy emergencies!"

So it seems the old FAL insensitivity gene is alive and well in my mother.

I hope I don't turn out like this.