Relative Bonds

Word came late Sunday that a rather young cousin had died unexpectedly. My reaction was remarkable for being unremarkable. I didn't know this cousin very well. He was the son of a less than favored uncle whose death some years ago, stirred nothing in me. I shan't discuss the reasons for my antipathy toward that uncle except to say, if you mistreat on my mother, you've made an enemy of me.
In recent days, before I heard of the death, I'd been thinking about the bonds of relativity. I was annoyed that a relative with whom I had no personal relationship had taken it upon himself to print my wedding pictures (damn online albums) and sent them off to yet another relative. I thought: "how dare he usurp my experience." I thought of my numerous cousins and how little I knew them--even the ones I had been close to as a child.
Some years ago I had planned to organise a family reunion in the old country but ultimately scrapped it. I decided I was happy with the relatives I knew--happy in the "better the devil you know" sense of happy. I didn't need any more relatives I decided. The ones I had were enough trouble.
By the time Monday rolled around, I'd forgotten that the poor chap was dead. Talking to my sister today she said she felt terribly guilty that she felt less for the cousin than she did for her ailing, incontinent, 20 year-old cat, now near death. "I'd feel sadder if Kitty had died," she said. "Me too," I replied.