(no subject)
The thought occurs to me that I'm going to have to call my dad sooner or later.
I don't know exactly when my father started becoming an asshole, but he really started to change after my sister was born. She was illegimate; the result of a casual relationship with a waitress at a mexican restaurant. Out of some sense of duty, Dad took in my sister's mother, though he never married her. The two did not get along, and my sister was not destined to get along with my dad either. Dad always wanted a boy that would follow in his footsteps, be interested in the things he was interested in, and always be around to take care of his old man. He ended up with two girls that failed to grow into the beauties that he would have settled for, failed to show an interest in fixing and creating mechanical things, and only show up out of necessity. Because we can't stand him.
I'm sure we have our share of shortcomings in our father/daughter relationships with him. We were both a money drain on him, and we both reminded him of our mothers-women that he could not stand.
He has his own failings too. He's tremendously self-centered. This is a result of him being able to depend on absolutely no one as he grew up. He has his own twisted, warped sense of morality that happens to offend the moralites of his daughters. He is blue collar; no crime in and of itself, since the majority of the world works for a living. In his mind, though, only blue collar workers are to be trusted. Only blue collar people actually do any work.
I'm rambling. I'm tired. I can't sleep, though. Because I can't stop thinking.
Anyway, the current issue I'm having with my dad is that instead of taking his cats to get spayed, he lets them run feral on his land and they have kittens. He doesn't want to take care of multiple kittens. So he kills them. He kills any animal he doesn't want to have to take care of. He used to have dogs when he was younger. I guess he got sick of having to give attention to dogs; he started to like cats more because they don't need so much attention. His last dog wasn't even really his dog. It was a dog that my sister got when she lived with her mom. She took the dog out to dad's land because she couldn't have it at her mom's house anymore. Eventually, she forgot about the dog and moved on to other things in her life. Dad didn't want the dog. He didn't kill it, but he did drown the litter of puppies that she had. That dog lived out there on that land, shrinking away from human contact because Dad would kick at it when it would come around.
This is my great shame, that I never stepped in and took Pepper off Dad's land and found a proper home for her where she would be loved. Eventually, Pepper got into a neighbour's henhouse, killed some chickens and was shot by the neighbour. I will spend the rest of my life doing penance for this. Pepper was at least five years ago. Thinking about that dog still keeps me up crying at night. I'm no better than the people who drove the trains full of Jews to Auschwitz.
I told Dad, with this litter of kittens, catch them and let me come get them. Catch the momma cat and I'll take her in to get spayed. I'll find homes for the kittens. Just don't kill anymore.
I don't know if he's going to do what I ask. I don't want to call him. I don't want to talk to him. I'm afraid that I'll call and he'll say that he's already killed them. He'll want to talk about his health that's been failing for years now, about how he's going to die any day. About how corrupt the government is. About how no one ever calls him or how lonely he is about living by himself.
I don't care. He's not the man I knew as my Dad when I grew up. I love him, but I don't like who he is as a person.
I don't know exactly when my father started becoming an asshole, but he really started to change after my sister was born. She was illegimate; the result of a casual relationship with a waitress at a mexican restaurant. Out of some sense of duty, Dad took in my sister's mother, though he never married her. The two did not get along, and my sister was not destined to get along with my dad either. Dad always wanted a boy that would follow in his footsteps, be interested in the things he was interested in, and always be around to take care of his old man. He ended up with two girls that failed to grow into the beauties that he would have settled for, failed to show an interest in fixing and creating mechanical things, and only show up out of necessity. Because we can't stand him.
I'm sure we have our share of shortcomings in our father/daughter relationships with him. We were both a money drain on him, and we both reminded him of our mothers-women that he could not stand.
He has his own failings too. He's tremendously self-centered. This is a result of him being able to depend on absolutely no one as he grew up. He has his own twisted, warped sense of morality that happens to offend the moralites of his daughters. He is blue collar; no crime in and of itself, since the majority of the world works for a living. In his mind, though, only blue collar workers are to be trusted. Only blue collar people actually do any work.
I'm rambling. I'm tired. I can't sleep, though. Because I can't stop thinking.
Anyway, the current issue I'm having with my dad is that instead of taking his cats to get spayed, he lets them run feral on his land and they have kittens. He doesn't want to take care of multiple kittens. So he kills them. He kills any animal he doesn't want to have to take care of. He used to have dogs when he was younger. I guess he got sick of having to give attention to dogs; he started to like cats more because they don't need so much attention. His last dog wasn't even really his dog. It was a dog that my sister got when she lived with her mom. She took the dog out to dad's land because she couldn't have it at her mom's house anymore. Eventually, she forgot about the dog and moved on to other things in her life. Dad didn't want the dog. He didn't kill it, but he did drown the litter of puppies that she had. That dog lived out there on that land, shrinking away from human contact because Dad would kick at it when it would come around.
This is my great shame, that I never stepped in and took Pepper off Dad's land and found a proper home for her where she would be loved. Eventually, Pepper got into a neighbour's henhouse, killed some chickens and was shot by the neighbour. I will spend the rest of my life doing penance for this. Pepper was at least five years ago. Thinking about that dog still keeps me up crying at night. I'm no better than the people who drove the trains full of Jews to Auschwitz.
I told Dad, with this litter of kittens, catch them and let me come get them. Catch the momma cat and I'll take her in to get spayed. I'll find homes for the kittens. Just don't kill anymore.
I don't know if he's going to do what I ask. I don't want to call him. I don't want to talk to him. I'm afraid that I'll call and he'll say that he's already killed them. He'll want to talk about his health that's been failing for years now, about how he's going to die any day. About how corrupt the government is. About how no one ever calls him or how lonely he is about living by himself.
I don't care. He's not the man I knew as my Dad when I grew up. I love him, but I don't like who he is as a person.