When we went away we asked my brother to keep an eye on things; water the plants, feed the cat, and check in on my mom. We spoke every other day, and one day he tells me, “Your cat died.”
“You can’t just tell me that it died,” I replied. “You have to ease me into it. First maybe call and tell me that the cat’s on the roof and the fire department brought a ladder to get him down. Then call again and tell me that the cat fell, but you’re doing everything you can to save it, and then tell me that the cat has died.”
“Sorry, I should have thought first,” said my brother, who was quite embarrassed at this point.
“So, how is mom?” I asked.
There was a slight hesitation. “Um, mom is on the roof….”
So today I am at the doctor, and I ask him a question about a symptom I am having. So without any segue or preamble he jumps to “Do you have a neurologist?”
To which I replied “May I tell you a story about my cat?”