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The original was posted on /r/tifu by /u/sasukenipples on 2024-03-21 23:15:34.

This is a LONG ONE that requires quite a bit of background, but if you like reading stories about crackheads doing crackhead things, strap in.

I am my mother’s oldest (26/F) and my mom has successfully pan seared her brain (just like the egg in the “this is your brain on drugs” commercial) with various illicit substances over the course of my entire life. I moved in with my dad at 14 for very good reasons and I’m finally at a point where she and I can have a casual relationship for the first time in over a decade.

Seven years ago, I had a gorgeous silver brindle husky/pit mix named Artemis. That dog was my first dog as an adult and she was my pride and joy. I was planning on leaving the state for a week, my mom and younger sisters lived on an acreage in the country, my teen sisters offered to watch my dog while I was gone. Of course you can. No biggie. I drop Artemis off, go on my trip, and come back a day early. As I’m driving up the gravel to the house, I see my sweet baby girl running to greet me with, get this, THREE DEAD CHICKENS DUCT TAPED TO HER FUCKING BODY. I ran in the house in a rage and my mother justified her actions by telling me that this was teaching Artemis not to kill chickens. I said, “No, you are letting her parade around her trophies. What the fuck is wrong with you?” She has subjected me to some crackhead level shit many many times before, but never to this level of complete and utter wack ass thinking. To this day, I refuse to try to rationalize my mother’s train of thought.

Fast forward three years from that incident, my sisters had moved out, my mom had supposedly gotten clean, she and I didn’t talk for the entirety of those three years. My husband was diagnosed with melanoma in his eyeball and his doctors urged us to schedule surgery ASAP. I needed to be in California to take care of him in less than 48 hours and I was located in Iowa. At this point, I had two dogs, Artemis and a Rott/GSD mix named Ziggy, and a fat old tabby cat named Leeroy. I reached out to my family, friends, in-laws, boarding kennels, and my vet to no avail. No one had availability or space on such short notice. Rover and other animal care services were outrageously expensive for two +100lb dogs and a cat. I was out of options. I figured, “Okay, she’s clean. The family that does talk to her says she’s behaving like she did 30 years ago before she was introduced to drugs. She’s my mom… I’ll give her a chance to be my mom and help me again.” She was very happy to hear from me and immediately agreed to watch my trio while I took care of the hubby after his surgery and very minor cancer treatment. I drove everyone to her house, and to my surprise, she was very warm (extremely uncharacteristic) and talked clearer than I had ever remembered. She looked great and as a kid that had been let down time and time and time again by her mom, I was filled with so much hope. “Maybe I’ll finally have a MOM” “Maybe I can finally let her into my life” “Maybe we can do normal mother/daughter things!” The entire 28 hour drive to California, I was so happy. The weeks I was there, she sent me pictures and videos of her dogs and mine playing, videos of Leeroy birdwatching and cuddling in bed with her. Everything seemed great! She was blowing my mind! My mom was normal again!!

As I pulled into her driveway after 28 hours of driving home by myself, I watched her open the front door and let Leeroy outside. I jumped out of my car and casually walked up to the deck so as not to spook him into running. I was about 30 or so feet away from him when my mom bolts at the cat screaming which obviously sends him running top speed into the field. I was furious. I watched her intentionally let my cat outside so I couldn’t take him home. But that’s not the worst part. The only dog of mine at the house was Ziggy. She insisted that Artemis was hers now and that they had “soul bonded.” She had taken the dog to someone’s house to I couldn’t take her home. I didn’t believe her, tore the fucking property apart looking for a kennel or a cage that she could have been hiding my dog in. No luck. I took Ziggy and drove the two hours back home. I went to her house unannounced EIGHT times in the span of two weeks trying to get my animals back. Every single time ended in one of her classic tantrums, screaming, throwing punches, telling me I just want her to be alone and that I’M the aggressor for trying to take HER animals. I was so beaten down that I gave up. I gave up on trying to get Artemis and Leeroy back. I knew she was using them as a ploy to see me. I knew she was using again. I stopped talking to her yet again.

A year and a half later, I’m bartending at a brewery and I get a call from my mother at 11:30pm. It’s the first time she had reached out and she would never call this late… the bar is dead… I answer.

Her: “If you don’t come get this fucking dog right now I’m going to shoot her in the backyard.” Me: “Shit, okay. I’ll be there in 2 and a half hours. I need to close up. What is going on?” Her: “Artemis killed the neighbor’s chickens.” She hung up.

I called my husband, picked him up and made sure he had his handgun. (I would like to be very clear and say I’m not pro-gun, but this is a perfect example of us potentially needing to protect ourselves (crackhead with access to guns threatening to execute my dog in her backyard is a pretty fucking wild situation to mentally or physically prepare for)) We drove down and picked up Artemis with no issues, THANK FUCKING GOD.

Since then, my mother has gotten a divorce from an awful man, relinquished her parental rights to my kid sisters, started therapy, bought a house, met a guy that takes care of her, and, most importantly, has consistently been pissing clean for her bi-weekly court mandated drug tests. I have upheld a casual relationshipwith her for about a year and a half now. I hire her occasionally for manual labor when I need an extra hand (I’m a landscape designer now) and I keep her at arms length. I don’t let her close to my life, but I can’t sit here and deny obvious progress that’s she’s made. She and I have talked about the past a little bit here and there, but I’m pretty seasoned at guiding the conversation elsewhere when she starts getting heated.

About a year ago, my mom reached out to me asking if I would like to have our family’s 12 year old cat named Betty. Betty is obviously old, she’s only ever been an outdoor cat, but she’s the friendliest furball of them all. I picked up Betty a few days later, took her to the vet for the first time in 8 years, and she gained 5 desperately needed pounds within a few months. Betty has been LOVING her fat happy retirement with me.

Fast forward to now, I am moving in a few days and my mom reached out asking if she could have Betty back. I told her that Betty has become accustomed to 24/7 access to food, water, and attention so she would be staying with me. My mom then told me that I was stealing her family from her and that I didn’t love her or care about her mental health. I told her very calmly that my decision to keep Betty was not personal and that it would cause less stress on a senior cat to move with me than to be thrust outside after a year of plush living.

My mother told me I was stealing Betty.

Here’s where I fucked up:

I said very calmly, “I would like to say that what I am doing is not stealing. If I were stealing her I would have done what you did to me with Artemis and Leeroy.” I said as such thinking "oh funny haha it’s in the past and maybe we can start laughing about the stupid shit she’s pulled over the course of my life. BOY OH BOY, was I wrong. She insisted I dumped my animals on her for a year and a half, I objected, she asked if I even knew why she gave me Artemis back in the first place. I said that is was because she killed the neighbor’s chickens, she agreed, I opened my mouth again saying, “Which she probably wouldn’t have done if you hadn’t encouraged a prey driven dog by duct taping dead chickens to her body.” When I say that my mom overreacted, you’ll never understand the scope of her tantrums. She SCREAMED for a solid minute before I hung up on her. My mother insists that she would NEVER do something like that to a dog. She insists that I’m the one with the fucked up memory. She has sent me over 70 texts since this conversation last night. Her gaslighting? Immaculate. Her accountability? Nonexistent. Her abuse? Back in full force after two solid years of maintaining boundaries.

TL;DR: Recently ex-crackhead mom wants her daughter to give her cat to her. Daughter thinks she’s healed enough to joke about the past, but ruins all progress made to mend the relationship while simultaneously opening her life back up to her mother’s bullshit.