GRAMMY: Is that you, Barbara?
ME: Yes, Grammy. Where are you?
GRAMMY: In the bathroom. Call the vet.
ME: The vet? Did something happen to snowflake?
GRAMMY: The damn fish ate her!
ME: Oh, Grammy. For a minute I thought you were serious.
GRAMMY: I am serious. Now call the damn vet! Or better yet, pull out the ipecac. We have to make this fish vomit.
ME: (sigh) The things I do to humor that woman. Where is it, Grammy?
GRAMMY: In here. In the medicine cabinet.
ME: Well, can’t you get it? You’re already in there.
GRAMMY: I’m trying to save your damn cat! So if you ever want to see the stupid thing again, get me that ipecac!
ME: All right, Grammy. I’ll get the . . . . Oh my God! What have you been feeding that thing?
GRAMMY: Get me the damn . . . .
ME: Here.
GRAMMY: Good. Now hold the sucker down while I pry its mouth open. You got it?
ME: Got it.
FISH: Blech.
ME: Snowflake! You saved her, Grammy! But the fish . . . it’s . . . dead.
GRAMMY: Serves the sucker right. Now how about some fish filets for supper?
Photo: Stanislav O.
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