When I was little my mom overheard two other mothers talking in the elevator of my elementary school. "It's not over," one said, "until the kids are in college and the dog is dead." It was too late for her -- she already had two kids -- but she decided we would never, ever get a dog. Still, as a child I had separation issues, so one summer, in the hopes of bribing me to stay at sleep away camp, she relented.
We got a dog.
My sister and Francesca have never really gotten along. When we picked her up from a breeder near our country house -- the aging stepmother of one of my father's colleagues -- Merav (my sister) disliked her from the start. As Franny lay around our house, unwilling to fetch or jump or shake or move, Merav termed her "a lox," and never really changed her tune. Our cat -- the deaf and cantankerous Flipper Flore Winkie Alereskus Snowball Aleph Heettner Silverman (may she rest in peace) -- felt similarly, and bullied Franny from the moment the pooch arrived in our apartment until the day Franny realized that she was stronger than Flipper, and certainly more svelte than our obese feline ... at which point she terrorized Flip until a few days before my poor cat's demise. And, in reality, Franny is far from perfect. She hates other dogs vehemently, has never quite been successfully housetrained (as in "Pee on Broadway and not on the Oriental carpet, bitch!") and, after Flipper (who was notorious for terrorizing housekeepers) died, has begun to nip the nice lady who cleans our apartment.
Oh, Francesca.
Still, when Merav said the other day, "I wish Francesca would just die," I took offense. She explained that Franny was a being who had been foisted on her, and who required her to work hard with little to no personal benefit. It is true that since I have left for college I have been unable to walk Franny as much as I might like, and it's also true that Merav might be extraordinarily-to-deathly allergic to dogs, but, in all honesty, I think she was overreacting when I said, "That's funny, because I feel similarly about you." I mean, it's true. Merav has the bigger room, better grades, blonder hair (fine, blonde hair!) and people think I'm an only child anyway. Essentially, she's been a drain on my resources. Unfortunately, unlike Francesca, she doesn't have two forms of cancer, so she may be around for awhile.
Okay, fine. I love my sister. She's cool and funny and it won't be her fault if she gets into a ton more colleges than I did. (Good luck, kid.) I hope she doesn't die. But still. Dogs are the best.
For my mom, it's almost all over. And, it's really my mom hoping that Franny is dead. So mommy, I guess I don't hate Merav. I hate you.
It's a dog eat dog world --
- Yona
