I've Become a Jewish Mother

Oy, it happens.

I've had custody of KiKi for ten days now. His "mysterious" illness was tracked to poisoning by a neighbor of my ex in an effort to get the apartment. My immediate effort to call acquaintances of mine in the police department were thwarted by the ex in an effort to leave the building for another one owned by the same real estate company. I was going to have that piece of rafter shit hauled to the Chrome Detention Center; all anyone had to do was see KiKi throwing up chemicals and dizzily walking to want to kill that foreign trash. But since we are to be calm, KiKi stays with me, which brings me to the Jewish Mother thing.

Jewish mothers are always worried about their sons, and one of those worries seems to always have been centered around the Perfect Passing of Poo-Poo. PPP is very important to good digestion and good health, and after the poison, KiKi developed constipation (said by a vet to be dehydration). For ten days I have followed him around on our walks closely observing the attempted function; add to this KiKi's dislike of anyone watching him and you can imagine the tension. I often have to seem to look at a bird in a tree or glance at my imaginary watch while he struggles.

I took the afternoon off to enjoy the exemplary weather with KiKi and we were nibbling on lunch outside when I noticed his ears stand up. "Do you want to go for a walk?" was all I had to ask to have KiKi jump off the deck chair and ran to the front. (A fastidious dog, he doesn't like to do it on the property.) Out on the sidewalk, KiKi got into position and so did I: I kept repeating "poo-poo", my plastic-gloved hand behind my back while bowed like a butler to watch the glorious event when out popped my neighbor for no apparent reason than to walk to the street and back. (Unless they are gay, neighbors are regarded frostily.)

She actually uttered a slight "Oh", as if she had stumbled in on her son abusing himself, and I could bring myself to no more than a half-hearted snarl/smile. She didn't realize that she had ruined the moment; KiKi was no more going to do the PPP in front of her than he was the Pope and we sadly walked back in. I took off the plastic glove and pet him; he knew that Momma was there for him when the time came again.