Overheard the cats talking about me this morning.
Zoë: She was pregnant, like, FOREVER. Then she just had ONE kitten.
Violet: One? OMG.
Zoë: I know! It was her first litter and all, but she was just HUGE. I thought for sure she would have six, if not eight. Then out pops ONE SINGLE KITTEN.
Violet: Oh no, poor thing! Well, it’s probably for the best. She only has two nipples… Monkeys are weird like that.
Zoë: Shhhhh! I think she can hear us. Don’t say anything or she’ll feel bad.
As you can see, the cats have been talking smack again. Since Zoë started sleeping on my belly when I was pregnant, I assume she could smell the hormones or otherwise knew, and it must have seemed an eternity to her.
Furthermore, the cats don’t understand why I won’t bite my screaming kitten on the back of the neck before she draws predators. I keep telling them humans don’t do that, but they remain alarmed.
That being said, the cats have been absolutely wonderful with the new baby. I watch them closely, making sure they don’t accidentally hurt her, but so far they have been extremely loving. They pile on the bed, snuggling up to her with their fuzzy cat fur and purring bellies, and are incredibly patient when she grabs their tails or whiskers. They must sense that she is just a baby, because they just back away when she gets too rough instead of peppering her hands in self-defense.
Out of desperate need for deeper sleep, we have graduated from co-sleeping to sleeping with the baby for a little while before moving her to her own bed in the room. For some reason, she doesn’t want to sleep in her crib, instead preferring the rocker (makes we wonder why we don’t have adult-sized rockers. Maybe those would be hammocks).
Usually, Wylie (our gray-striped cat) will sit at the end of the bed and keep watch on Brontë as she sleeps in the rocker. The cats appear to be posting at least one cat on guard duty at all times.
If all this weren’t heartwarming enough, they even conduct special-ops missions. The other day, Brontë woke up crying after her nap and a cat parachuted into her Pack-N-Play, licked her face until she quit crying, then jumped out. Apparently, there is a Love Ninja in the house:
Whether this is all done out of love, a desire for pack cohesion, or the simple need to reduce the threat of drawing predators, I am not certain. Now, if they could only learn to change diapers…