rSlash - r/Offmychest I Stole Back My Own Cat

Episode Date: September 30, 2026

0:00 Intro 0:06 Cat 1:12 911 6:24 Sister 8:12 Fiance 10:35 College kids Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Where some see heroes and others see egos. Bloomberg sees the era of billionaire athletes. While others follow the noise, we follow the money. Learn more at Bloomberg.com. Visit BetMGM Casino and check out the newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. BetMDM and GameSense remind you to play responsibly. 19 plus to wager.

Ontario only. Please play responsibly. If you have questions or concern, about your gambling or someone close to you. Please contact connects Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor, free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to R-slash off my chest, where OP steals a cat. Our next Reddit post is from OK Internet.

A few years ago, I had to give my cat away because the place I was moving into didn't allow pets. A family about 20 minutes away took him in, and for the first year they'd occasionally send me pictures. Eventually, that stopped. Last year, I finally saved enough to move somewhere that allowed animals again. One night, I was driving through their neighborhood after leaving a friend's place, and I saw a cat sitting under a parked car. It was him. Same markings, same chip tooth, and when I called his old name, he immediately ran over to me.

He was filthy and way skinnier than him. I remembered. I put him in my car and drove home. I never contacted the family. About four days later, my friend sent me a picture of a missing cat flyer from that neighborhood. They were offering a reward and everything. I still have him. He's asleep next to me right now. They probably still think he disappeared. I don't blame you, O.P., sometimes you got to do what you got to do. Our next Reddit post is from Storm Puppies, and this one has a wild title, so I don't know where it's going. was the best and worst day of my life. I was 13. My parents were separated. My father lived in Lower Manhattan, the last building in Chambers Street. Weekend visits with him were the best.

We'd always see a movie, get great food, and go to Sam Goody at One World Trade Center to get CDs. My father worked on Wall Street my whole life. My mother and I lived a short drive away in Northern New Jersey. They told us what happened before pulling the kids whose parents were working in Lower Manhattan and said we were going into lockdown. Looking back, now I understand why everyone was scared and confused and trying to do their best, especially the adults. I was confused and terrified. Luckily, a mom who knew me well was working in the school that day. Her daughter was in my class. Her father also worked on Wall Street. She busted into class, grabbed her daughter, looked at me and said, Up, you're coming with me. I remember squeezing her daughter's hand.

I remember asking about my dad and what was going on. I came to the conclusion that they were taking me somewhere to tell me that my dad was dead, and I burst into tears. When we got to the library, they explained they were taking in kids who had parents in lower Manhattan, so that they could, against the lockdown, be picked up by their parents. I don't remember much of what it was like in the library, other than seeing one of the librarians crying. That was odd for me. It was all very surreal.

There were a lot of TVs and a phone, but the lines were getting clogged up immediately. My friend's mom told me that my mom was here. I remember telling her that my stuff was in the classroom still, and she said that it was okay and that I would get it tomorrow. None of us would be going to school tomorrow. They had a teacher at the door of the library walking kids down the hallway, where the principal was at the doors to the outside that were chained shut. When we got close, he unlocked the chain and let me out.

And my mom was there, and I just absolutely lost it. I cried and cried and asked what was happening, and if my dad was okay. And she stayed so incredibly strong and just kept saying, I don't know, but it's going to be okay. Let's go home. Terrified all day, I kept asking my mom why we hadn't heard from dad, and she explained that everyone was trying to use the phone, so it's going to be hard for my dad to get in touch with us. As an adult now, I know that my mom was probably even more scared than I was. And she also had no idea if my father was alive. I turned on the TV and saw a woman crying, covered in debris, saying how terrible it was. She was standing in my father's neighborhood. My neighborhood. They were trying to get people in fairies out of the city. The ferry that I had taken to see my dad. I threw the remote and the back came off and the batteries went flying. I ran past my mom in the kitchen and through the front door and collapsed in my driveway. Suddenly, my mom appeared behind me with the phone and by some miracle, my dad was able to get through and he wanted to talk to me. He was in tears. I'm okay, my baby. I'm going to be okay. But you might not be able to hear

for me for a while. I just wanted to tell you that I'm here and that I love you. He explained to my mom that him and the others found refuge in a liquor store. Strangely, the store shared his same name. They were all covered in debris, but they were safe. He said it looks pitch black out of the windows, but they would wait it out there. It was the scariest and saddest day of my entire life. Even more sad when my dad died seven years ago of throat, esophageal, and lung cancer because of all the stuff he was covered in and breathed in. But it was also the best day because my dad survived.

A lot of my friends and kids at school were not as lucky. Every 9-11, my dad and I would talk and cry and tell each other how much we loved each other. He never got to meet my daughter. It hurts a lot to not... Sorry, this story is... Okay, this story is actually hitting me a little bit. As a girl, dad, I can't help but put myself in this story a little bit. So sorry if I'm getting a little bit choked up here.

It hurts a lot to not be able to do that today. So I'm just getting this off my chest. Dad, I love you so much. I know that you were never the same again after that day. both mentally and physically. But in my heart and mind, if I close my eyes, I can imagine myself walking through the courtyard with you outside of the World Trade Center, talking about music on our way to Sam Goody. And it's a really happy memory that I don't want to ever give up. I'm sorry you can't be here, because I know how happy you would be surrounded by your grandbabies. But I'm also

grateful I got so many more years with you after that horrible day. Today will always be a Daddy Appreciation Day. Oh, I didn't even realize this was actually posted on September 11th. And I still remember that day like it was yesterday. And clearly O.P. does too. I'm sad that O.P.'s dad died of cancer, but at least O.P. got some more precious years with her father. Our next Reddit post is from writing practice man. My sister was the picturesque ideal of adulthood. Got good grades. Met her husband in college. Got a graduate degree. Started her career. Bought a house in their mid-20s after penny-pinching together. Had kids, had Instagram sponsors from her family life. You probably know the type. Her husband was amazing. Kept her grounded, was a natural fit into our

family, and even into my and my brother's friend groups. He was an amazing husband and an even more amazing dad. Someone with an attitude and view of the world worth aspiring to. Well, my sister decided last year that it was time for her midlife crisis and that she needed to have the promiscuous phase that she never allowed herself to have. Fine. Really going to miss the X, but blood is thicker, you know? But my God, this has been hard to watch. She invited him to my niece's birthday party at her new home and was needlessly cruel to the point that my brothers and I were both hugging him and apologizing on her behalf. She got so effing drunk at my own wedding earlier this year, that she started loudly sharing dickpicks of random tender dudes with an earshot of my very quiet,

and not politically, conservative in-laws who had been in-laws for less than 12 effing hours. The constant partying, the new friends, the bridges she keeps burning, the help she's refusing to get. It's all so effing hard to watch. As I'm writing this, my nine-year-old niece, who was earlier lamenting about her toys and parents being split between two houses, has her head nestled into my chest asleep after her mom is partying on an effing Wednesday three hours away. Who the F is this person? Our next Reddit post is from Heartbroken Account. I'm a 25-year-old woman, and my fiancé is 25.

My husband has new friends, and they are not good people. They scare me. It took me a while to see it. And maybe I'm stupid because I didn't notice right away, but I see it now. He met someone through one of his hobbies, and eventually this person introduced my fiancé to some of his other friends. At first, I convinced myself that it was just a misunderstanding on my part, but now I know better. If I try to bring it up with my fiancé, he just shuts me down or says I'm imagining things. I am not imagining it.

I've seen racist tattoos on at least two of them. It might not be overt if you don't know what you're looking for, but if you search online, it's clear. what the tattoos mean. I've been looking up some of these new friends on social media, and their accounts are full of posts about purity and traditional values. My fiance has become obsessed with this American podcaster who's openly racist and doesn't try to hide it. I've heard these new friends talk about immigration in a negative way, and now my fiance brings it up a lot when he never cared about it before. They also talk about traditional values and gender roles, and my fiance brought up how nice it is if a woman stops working after she gets married.

He backtracked and said he was just making a general comment after I got upset with him, and we argued, but I can't stop thinking about it. He keeps saying I'm imagining things or that you're the one who's obsessed since you keep bringing it up. He's gone down a road that I can't follow. I love him, but I can't marry him now. His comments about traditional gender roles and me not working are bad enough, his talk about purity is disgusting. And it is racist and exactly the kind that you're thinking of.

Anyone who says otherwise is just as bad as my fiance and his friends. I can't get through to him. He won't listen to me. I'm going to break up with him. My sister is the only one who knows so far. I'm not ready to tell anyone else, but I will after I moved out. I just wanted to get this out somewhere. It just hurts so much. Well, O.P. At least he, he did you the courtesy of showing the side of himself before you got married. Our next Reddit post is from Conversation Witch. Last night, my husband and I went to a bar with some friends. We live in an area with a lot of college kids, and many come to the bars.

Everything was going normally, and we were ordering foods and drinks and having a good time. Then a drunk, probably college girl, stumbled over to the counter and screamed, Holy shit, you're fat! And turned around to her friends, made some gesture. and then smacked my stomach. That was the most humiliating experience of my life. What made it so humiliating was not only the fact that a stranger called me fat and smacked my stomach, but that my husband didn't say anything to defend me.

Instead, he laughed. Our friends tried comforting me and called him out, but I felt so embarrassed. We ended up leaving in separate cars, and we haven't talked since yesterday. He texted an apology, but didn't seem since then. I've always been insecure of my weight, and this has only intensified that insecurity. I don't know what to do. Well, I think the first thing you can do is expect a sincere, face-to-face apology from your husband. In all of my various screw-ups across the years, I don't think I've ever texted an apology to my wife before.

My somewhat similar story is that one time when I was in a public pool in China, this older guy must have been like, I don't know, 70, came up to me, said something to me in Chinese, I don't speak Chinese, and then rubbed my hairy chest and then walked away. Very weird, violating experience. I don't know what gives people the idea they can just touch random people without permission. That was R-slash off my chest. And if you like this content, be sure to follow my podcast because I put out new Reddit podcast episodes every single day. Where some see heroes and others see egos. Bloomberg sees the era of billionaire athletes.

While others follow the noise, we follow the money. Learn more at Bloomberg.com.