Poor Kitty.

Zj has always had a bit of an active imagination.

Once when he was in the threeish age range, I went to pick him up from the sitter's, and the sitter met me at the door and pulled me outside onto the porch immediately.  

Oh dear God I don't care if he bit you again.  You are the adult here.  You are bigger.  You are getting paid to be bitten, so learn to deal with it, already.  I certainly hoped that he wasn't misbehaving again, that naughty boy.  

She put her hand on my shoulder and asked, quite seriously "How's your cat doing?"


Blank stare from me.

She tried again.

"Your cat?  Is he going to be ok?"

Blank. Stare.

"Because Zachary told us today that Kitty was very sick and had to go to the doctor and I was just worried that maybe Kitty was not going to be ok.  I know how much he loves Kitty, and I'm just worried."

Me: "We don't have a cat."

Uncomfortable laughter.  "Oh of course you have a cat." (Like it's possible I just forgot or something).  "Zachary tells us about Kitty all the time."

Me: "We really don't have a cat."

"Are you sure?"

Me: Well, let me think.  Oh, THAT cat.  Of course.  I just forgot about THAT cat for about three years or so.  THANK YOU SO MUCH for reminding me we have a cat.  "Yes, I'm sure we don't have a cat."

"But Zachary had told us all about Kitty.  Kitty is white and fluffy.  Last week, Kitty scratched him.  Today, Kitty had to go to the doctor.  I'm pretty sure you have a cat."  

Me: "We don't have a cat."

So apparently, he had been making up elaborate Kitty fantasies for weeks.  Oh, and morbid ones, you know, like with blood and gore and hospitals and such, at that.


This blog post's only function is to serve as a reminder of Kitty for zj, because someday I'm pretty sure his therapist will ask for additional information...

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