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I hear my mother in the kitchen saying good morning to the animals. “Get out of the way, Shitty Kitty.” “Oh, Winston. You’re such a good doggie. Yes you are, my sweet boy.” Every time I hear her dismiss the cat with verbal abuse and cuddle the dog with kisses, I have flashbacks to my childhood. It seemed to me like there always had to be a bad child. I wasn’t the good daughter because I got straight A’s on my report card. That was expected of me and never rewarded. No, I was the good daughter because my brother