“Look, he’s dangling his head over the side of the bed. Isn’t
he cute?”
“I’ve probably got 200 pictures of him on my phone.”
“Aww, he’s so sweet.”
Our cat Eli will be a year old next week, and it is so like
having a baby around the house.
Everything he does—including jumping on the table, sleeping
on a dining room chair for a couple hours, stopping to sniff the dog, then
walking on—it’s all just so delightfully cute.
Who hasn’t laughed about times when little kids receive an
abundance of gifts for Christmas, and they prefer to play with the wrapping
paper?
We discovered Eli loves paper bags. Not only does he bat at
it or chase it, but, again like a baby, he might just crawl in and take a nap.
Murray keeps one laying open on the kitchen floor for the little guy.
Like with a small child, we have to make sure the door is
securely closed so he doesn’t get out. And, every time one of us goes out, we
call, “Where’s the cat? Watch for the cat.”
Because he does love to go out, and he is so quiet and quick
to sneak through the open door. The shelter we got him from calls it “door
dashing.”
If he does get out, and we can’t find him, we’re all
worrying.
What if he gets hit by a car? What if he doesn’t come back?
What if he gets into a fight with another cat and gets hurt? What if he gets
into something that makes him sick?
Might as well be worrying about a kid.
We’re hopeless.
“He’s taking a bath; how precious.”
“Oh, he’s asleep. So sweet.”
“Aww, he whimpered; Poor little guy.”
“Are you eating a snack, buddy? Good boy.”
“Hey, the cat just fell off the sideboard and landed in a bag
of stuff.”
Okay, maybe we wouldn’t have laughed if that happened to a
real baby.
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