A New Life in Modern Family

I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.

https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon

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Chapter 107: Moral Support

Jon's Perspective

I had just pulled the car out of the driveway, easing it gently into the street, when I heard the first sound of trouble on the horizon.

Ghost, my kitten—currently confined in a carrier that he clearly viewed as a mobile prison cell—was sulking in total silence, the picture of feline indignation. He sat hunched and motionless inside his mesh-sided cube like a wrongly accused defendant on the way to a sentencing hearing. I could practically hear his internal monologue: "How dare you."

That's when I heard it—sharp, distinct, and delivered with the force of a musical cue from a soap opera:

"JON!"

There's something about the way Gloria says my name. It always carries this dramatic edge, like I've either just been honored with a prestigious medal or caught red-handed robbing a museum. Never anything in between.

I hit the brakes with a sigh, rolled down the window, and turned to see her power-walking toward the car like she was on a catwalk with a mission. She wore leopard-print stilettos—high enough to qualify as climbing gear—and was lugging a handbag that could have doubled as a carry-on suitcase. Her lipstick was perfect. Her energy was chaotic.

"I'm coming with you," she announced with absolute finality, yanking open the passenger door and climbing into the seat like she belonged there. No pause. No question. Just pure Gloria energy. "Ghost needs support."

I glanced in the rearview mirror at Ghost, who blinked at me with slow, icy disapproval. His ears didn't even twitch.

"You're sure he needs support?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gloria waved a hand like I'd just said something silly and naive. "Of course he does! He needs to feel the love of his family during this trying time."

I sighed. Deeply. This vet visit was beginning to feel less like a quick errand and more like the opening act of a melodrama. I could already hear the telenovela soundtrack in my head.

At the Vet Clinic – 15 Minutes Later

We checked in at the front desk and took our place in the waiting area, which smelled like antiseptic and wet fur. Ghost was still in his carrier, suspiciously calm but very alert—his ears twitched now and then, but otherwise he was holding it together.

Gloria, however, was not.

She perched on the edge of her seat like she was watching a medical emergency unfold in slow motion. Her eyes darted from the clock to the carrier and back again. She looked genuinely distressed—as if Ghost were not here for a routine vaccine but about to undergo emergency surgery without anesthesia.

"Look at him," she whispered, leaning in dramatically and peering through the carrier's mesh. "So tiny. So brave. So unaware of the pain that's coming his way!"

I tried to keep a straight face. "He's getting vaccinated. Not drafted."

Just then, a golden retriever—big, friendly, panting like it had just finished a marathon—walked past our row of chairs. Ghost hissed like a steam kettle, low and warning.

Gloria gasped so loudly heads turned. "He's already upset!"

"He saw a dog, not a needle."

"Same thing!" she snapped, fanning herself with a tri-fold pamphlet titled 'Your Cat and You: Building Trust One Treat at a Time'.

When they finally called us in, the vet—Dr. Patel, a calm and perpetually cheerful man who probably meditates daily—greeted us with a warm smile.

"Well, hello again, Ghost!" he said as if Ghost might say hello back. "Ready for your check-up?"

Ghost, of course, offered no reply. Just a cold stare.

Gloria, however, was already in high gear. She rose from her chair like a contestant summoned to spin the big wheel on The Price Is Right.

"Doctor," she said, one hand dramatically over her heart, "please be gentle. He is... very sensitive."

Dr. Patel blinked. "The kitten?"

"No, me!" Gloria said, eyes wide with theatrical sincerity.

I trailed behind them into the exam room, already dreading the emotional rollercoaster ahead.

Inside the Exam Room

Ghost sat on the metal table like a reluctant ruler being forced to attend a public ceremony. He was still. Calm. Mildly annoyed, sure—but remarkably composed, considering the circumstances.

Gloria, on the other hand, was winding herself up like a wind chime in a thunderstorm.

"What is that?" she demanded, pointing suspiciously at a thermometer.

"It's... a thermometer," I replied, trying not to sound exhausted.

"And you're going to use that on him?!"

I looked at her. "Don't ask where."

Dr. Patel chuckled as he gently began the exam. "Let's just start by checking his weight."

To Ghost's credit, he tolerated everything—being weighed, having his ears poked and prodded, even letting Dr. Patel check his eyes with a tiny flashlight. He didn't flinch once.

Then the syringe came out.

And Gloria officially lost it.

"Wait—no, no no, maybe we reschedule this," she said, half-rising from her chair like she was about to dive in front of a moving train. "Maybe today is not the right day."

"Gloria," I said as patiently as possible, "he's literally fine. You're the one about to faint."

"I feel his pain," she whispered fiercely, clutching her purse like a security blanket.

Dr. Patel looked at me, completely unbothered. "You're doing great, Jon. And so is Ghost. Maybe... talk your mom down from the ledge while I give the shot?"

"She's not my mom," I said, under my breath. "But yeah, I'll give it a shot."

I walked over to Gloria and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Breathe," I said. "Inhale. Exhale. Ghost is literally purring. He's not in pain. He's fine."

Gloria turned to me, her eyes misty with emotion. "But what if it hurts him?"

"Then he'll sulk for a week. Like he did last time. Remember?"

Finally, the shot happened. Quick. Smooth. Barely a twitch. Ghost blinked once and flicked his tail, like he was annoyed more by the fuss than the needle.

Meanwhile, Gloria let out a gasp and sank into her seat like she was recovering from a fainting spell.

After the Appointment – Parking Lot

Ghost was back in his carrier, now lounging like a cat who had survived an ordeal and knew it. I was unlocking the car when Gloria stepped into the sunlight, looking like she had just escaped a haunted house.

"I need something sweet," she announced with gravitas, fanning herself with the same crumpled pamphlet. "Maybe a pastry. Or a tart. I deserve it."

I gave her a smirk. "You want a reward for his vet appointment?"

She put a hand on my cheek, as if I were her precious child returning from war. "You're such a good boy."

"You do realize this was harder on you than on Ghost, right?"

She ignored me and climbed into the car with dramatic flair, like she had just completed the final scene of a stage play.

In the back seat, Ghost meowed once—a single, triumphant sound.

Somehow, I think he felt more vindicated than vaccinated.