Advice No One Asked For - Number Seventeen/Transcript

Advice No One Asked For - Number Seventeen is the seventeenth episode of Buckley's "Advice No One Asked For" series.  It is available as an audio file on his website (in the "Supplements" section), as well as on YouTube.
Description (as seen on both the website and YouTube): The guru of unwanted advice returns as Buckley tries to help a woman who is offended that her family doesn't share the same pain as she does about her recent loss...
==Transcript==
(introduction music playing during the following paragraph)
Welcome to "Advice No One Asked For".  The segment at A Dose of Buckley where I find some poor loser who asked a question to an advice columnist, and then kick a mother down and answer it in my own brutally honest fashion.  Today's question comes from an insane cat lady.
Dear someone much less vulgar,
Recently, I lost my cat to Feline Infectious Peritonitis.  It was devastating.
Hahaha, her cat died, and she wrote to an advice columnist to tell them about it!  Oh, man!  
When I offered my sister and her husband some of my cat's things the night he was euthanized, they seemed concerned that the disease that killed him was contagious.  I assured them I had done my research, and it was not.  A few days later, they informed me that the night my cat was euthanized they called the veterinarian, and asked questions.  I am offended that they called the veterinarian.  I believe it to be selfish and insensitive.  I was upset that they showed more concern about themselves and their lives than about this loss.  I think they should have taken another route to get the information, or at least wait a few days and ask my permission to ask the verterinarian.  Am I being oversensitive?
This was signed, I shit you not, "Grieving Mom".
First of all, I get it - people like pets.  I had a dog when I was young, it was a cool dog.  It's dead now, and I liked it better when it was alive - it was much better at playing fetch then.  But we joked about the fact that we were related to it, my parents would often call it my brother - again, jokingly.  It's not a member of your family, and you're definitely not its mom, you crazy cunt!  Unless you fucked another cat and somehow birthed its child, you are its owner, not its mother.  You owned a cat.  You're still allowed to be sad about having to put your kitty down, but don't call yourself its mom.  It had a mom once, it's likely dead by now too, and your cat didn't even give a shit. So now that we have that out of the way, why would you be offended that they didn't take your word for it?  You had "done your research", great, what'd you do, Wiki it?  Oh, well then, I guess that makes you a fucking verterinarian!  The disease is called "Feline Infectious Peritonitis".  It sounds fucking infectious to me.  I'm sure, however, they weren't concerned about their lives, they weren't planning on chewing on your cat's old plush mouse or whatever, they were likely more concerned about the lives of their cats, which you seem to be fucking insane for, so wouldn't you agree, better safe than sorry so more cats don't die out of whatever plague your mangy old cat got?  Why do they need your permission, are you "Queen of the Cats" now?  What other route could they have taken?  Reading the same shitty Wikipedia page as you did?  It seems that they took the right route - they called a professional and asked him or her their professional opinion.  Are you being oversensitive?  Yeah, no fucking question there.  But that seems to be the least of your problems.  You're upset that your sister was more concerned with ending up with her own pile of dead cats than she was about the death of your animal.  Of course she was!  It wasn't her cat!  What'd you want her to do, light a fucking candle?  Go into mourning for a month? Build a fucking statue in its honor?  You seem more concerned with the death of your cat than the health of your sister's cats - if anything, she should be pissed at you.  But instead she should just feel sad for you because you're a weird cat lady who will likely die alone with your other twenty cats, and they'll have to sift what's left of you out of the litter box.
(introductory music playing)
I'm Buckley, and you're welcome.