Dad Swears the Cat Is My Brother
When I was six, my older brother, Garrett Johnston, died in an accident.
Not long after, Dad finds a stray kitten with a marking on its wrist that matches Garrett's birthmark.
From that day on, the cat becomes my brother.
Dad takes down my desk to make room for a luxury litter box, leaving me to do my homework on the dining table.
He tears down our bunk bed and replaces it with a cat tree, banishing me to a bed made of stacked cardboard boxes on the balcony.
Dad spares no expense on premium cat food, treats, clothes, and toys, while I get nothing at all.
Finally, I pluck up the courage to ask Dad, "Garrett and I used to share everything. How come he gets it all now?"
Dad just snaps at