"Dat." About as close as he can manage to "cat". Sometimes it's just 'at. It's never da', because "da" is a totally different word, used to denote an object or person of interest. Like when he sees a dog, or a truck, or a Christmas tree. Or his mama. Or something he can stick in his mouth. "Da" is always accompanied by a vigorous pointing of the finger. Then again, so is "dat", although "dat" is also followed by a high-pitched squeal and some enthusiastic bouncing. Chins can't really jump yet, so bouncing is about the best he can manage. Still, it's kinda awesome.
I hesitated to upload this to YouTube, because YouTube videos with cats in them are a total 21st-century cliche. Ah well.
Anyway, our cat Tequila incessantly demanded constant attention from d.w. (without showing the slightest inclination to reciprocate) throughout the latter's pregnancy, and it is not much a stretch to say that d.w. hated her because of it. Yes, hated. With a passion and intensity only a pregnant woman can muster. Maybe that's why Chins showers Tequila (yes, an unfortunate name for a child's cat) with constant, vigorous attention, and why she always seems grateful for it.
Not that we were neglectful before, exactly, but come on. It's hard to lavish limitless attention on an annoying cat.
It does make me a little sad, though, that no matter how much he pulls her tail and how many clumps of fur he removes, she always comes back for more. I really think she needs to see a psychiatrist or something. Then again, she was a shelter cat, so who knows what kind of emotional baggage she's carrying with her.
If it takes being constantly molested by a baby to help her work through her kittenhood trauma, bully for her.
[Oh great, now every perv that googles "molest", "vigorous", "baby", and "tequila" will be directed immediately here. It really is a brave new world. -z.d.]
Meet Macey. I know she has a stupid name, but it's the one she had at the shelter in Bangor, so we don't hold it against her. Mainers can be an odd lot. Oh, and no offense to you if your (or your offspring's) name is Macey. Or, for that matter, if you're from Maine. Boy oh boy, we're really getting off to a good start, aren't we?
As you can see, Macey has decided that we are wonderful people for bringing her all sorts of comfy new places to sit, to sleep, and to patiently bide her time until the Revolution commences:
Although we've been doing our best to keep her out of everything, sometimes you have to take your eyes off her for, like, five seconds. Baby practice, I suppose. I have a feeling it may be a shock to her system when she realizes that all her new favorite spots have been usurped by "The New One".
We'll just take that one as it comes.
For a while I was concerned about her getting into all the zygote's things. But hey, the best way to prevent him from getting allergies is by exposing him to animals, right?
I was going through and cleaning out old bookmarks, when I came across a site I had forgotten all about: Cats in Sinks. The most brilliant concept for a website ever.
Just a little warning before we start. Ready? OK: I'm going to write about the cats today, and when people start talking about their cats, they sometimes have a hard time stopping. Sort of like it is with one's dogs, children, and medical conditions.
So the dear wife and I have a very amusing cat named Tequila (at right, in the little cubbyhole). Not because we're lushes, but because she has a tendency to stumble (and, occasionally, fall) when walking around. I feel bad laughing at my cat because of something she can't help. Actually, no I don't. It's freakin' hilarious.
Tequila (or Leela, as I try to call her, so that I don't get a call in 5 years saying, "Mr. zygote daddy, your hatchling says she likes to spend her time at home with tequila. Is there something you want to tell me?") is a very friendly cat. VERY friendly. Very let-me-sit-on-your-head-to-share-your-brain-warmth kind of friendly.
This is the kind of thing I picture her doing on a regular basis.
So when the zygote hatches, I have a feeling a head just out of the oven will look especially enticing. The dear wife thinks baby prison is the answer. Maybe she's right, but I don't want any of my kids going to prison until they can land themselves there on their own. Why get them used to it?
So who knows? Maybe this way we'll save money on little baby hats.
