Is Mom up to the task?

I am having doubts that Mom is capable of being Mom to a Queen, specifically ME, Queen Sophine. I fear that Mom did not understand, when she took me home from my exile, at the Shelter, that I had Queenly Needs that required regular attention. While I was Rental Dog Sophie, and living in University House, nicknamed "The Structure," because to actually call it a "House" was insulting to houses everywhere; I was able to "make do." Living with Oldest Lad as Rental Dog Sophie was far better than living in exile at The Shelter, and certainly far better than other Royalty that have fallen from grace have fared: in particular Tzar Nicholas II and his family. Or Napoleon Bonaparte, who suffered either slow poisoning or unattended stomach cancer during his exile.

Anyhoodles, Mom has been focusing much unwarranted attention of Little Lad and Wee Lass. Little Lad came down with a stomach virus. I even managed to minister to Little Lad, snuggling up to his back has he curled up on the floor on towels, with an emergency basin near by. Despite the overt risk to myself of Little Lad Germs, I realized it was my Queenly Duty to minister to my Subject in his time of need. I am certain that the warmth of my body and my healing vapors aided immensely.

On Saturday, Wee Lass was extremely grumpy with a Mucousy Cold, while Little Lad remained out of sorts with stomach pains. Mom then cut her finger on a dish that she did not realize was chipped. While it did not require outside medical attention, the wound bled quite a bit and required a long time of Direct Pressure. During this time of Direct Pressure, I "needed" to sit on Mom's lap. Mom kept pushing me off! Then Mom managed to get her wound somewhat stabilized, but had something in the oven to attend to. She kept a gauze wrapped around her index finger, while she worked the best she could with her other hand and remaining fingers. In between checking on the baking item, Mom would sit, gauze finger in the air. I would jump on her lap. Mom would push me off. Then Mom attempted to read her Kindle. I did not want the Kindle laying upon my back. No, I wanted Mom to stroke my head and to hold me close. She kept nudging me away. She also refused to allow me to "gnaw" the deer antler upon her lap.

I find myself in a conundrum: despite my Queenly Status, even aging Queens are not popular adoptees in The Shelter, and I have experienced exile to The Shelter before. Do I really wish Exile again? No, I dare not risk Exile, so I fear I shall have to continue to groom Mom to better minister to my needs, while accepting her faults.

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