Because I'm a compassionate and empathetic guy, I can't let you go all night being as butt-hurt as you obviously are, so let me tell you a story for commiseration and potential bonding purposes.
When I was 17, my adoptive parents were in their early 60s. My dad was an end-stage diabetic who never took care of himself. He believed illness could be overcome by sheer force of will. If you had cancer, well by golly you should just pull yourself up by your boot-straps and Horatio Alger the cancer into submission.
He died at age 62, mostly blind and with no legs.
My (adoptive) mother was a different creature altogether. She was an Emergency Room nurse at the local hospital. She spent her days and nights dealing with people who were on the cusp of death, either by means of illness or physical trauma. She was there when young, abused children died. She was there when lonely old people died. She was there when teenagers with their whole lives ahead of them died.
But after my dad died, she decided that what she really wanted was to hook up with a guy from the alcohol rehab unit who was literally half her age. She figured bringing him home would be a great idea.
I didn't like that guy very much. He stole a lot of my belongings and sold them to buy cocaine and beer. My mother, being insane, laughed off my concerns. She more or less told me, "boys will be boys." The bottom line is that she chose him over me.
There was one occasion when I locked him out of the house. He was trying to get in by means of breaking windows and kicking down the door. He was drunkenly yelling and threatening to kill me. I called 911 and waited 40 minutes for the police to show up (thanks, Waco TX Police Department). When they finally showed up, I got a lecture from the responding cop about the evils of abusing 911, and that if I ever called them again, I would go to jail. I was, as far as he was concerned, unhappy with mom's new boyfriend and was "acting out".
One day not long after that, my mom told me she was going to Dallas for the weekend, and would be back the following Monday.
The next day, she called and said she was in Medford, Oregon and planned to stay there.
That was 22 years ago, and I haven't heard from her since.
And here you are, criticizing my use of the word "creatures".