Before L. was born, I had already had two fur babies. The Little Man (who, at one time, I assure you, was little) and Princess Penelope Von Purrypants of the Purrypants Kingdom, whom we just refer to as The Princess. They had regular names, given by my ex, but I had nicknames that ended up sticking.
The Princess, in fact, was my first pregnancy indicator. Before I knew I was pregnant, she started paying attention to me, which she normally didn't. She was on top of my uterus 24-7, which she only occasionally did when I had my period and cramping -- one of the best heating pads ever. Throughout the pregnancy, she was right by my side.
The Little Man was oblivious. It's no wonder the boyfriend calls him Little Derp. Look that this face!
When L. was late, the baby furniture was all set up for nothing. But that didn't bother the cats at all. They made sure it got used.
I even used them as guinea pigs to test out baby equipment so I wouldn't be so clumsy when it came to actually using it.
Then L. was born. And before bringing her home, we sent ahead one of her little hospital caps to leave with the cats so they could get used to her scent. Still, when we brought her into the house for the first time, we set her down in her carrier and let the cats sniff and smell her to their delight.
They continued their curiosity over this little human.
They still tried to sneak into L.'s things. And they played with her toys sometimes.
But, for the most part, she ignored them.
Until one day when all of a sudden, she wondered about the little fur balls who were so interested in her. Or, actually, I should say the one furball who could not understand this human who was smaller than he was.
And then, she decided to love them. Or, at least, try to love them.
Soon, I couldn't tell who was up to mischief, since all three of them were usually close to the vicinity of whatever catastrophe had occurred. I especially loved how not one of them knew how evidence worked and I could usually tell the culprit, even when L. would point to the cats.
|"They did it, I swear."|
In fact, it was Little Man who was the goal in many of L.'s attempts at rolling over, crawling and then walking. She wanted to love him even more.
It was apparent I needed to teach "gentle" as soon as possible. Most of the time, The Princess keeps to herself when I have L. It's not uncommon to not see her for most of L.'s time with me. She's gentle enough with her when L. tries to get too close. And, unlike with most people, she will retract her claws when swatting L. away. But L. has quickly learned The Princess needs her space.
Little Man, on the other hand, is a glutton for punishment.
|Seriously? You're in her bed and you think she'll leave you alone, Little Man?|
But, I do like that L. was introduced to pets early on. And she does have a sense of responsibility to them. She brushes them and gives them attention that sometimes I'm too tired to give. She gets the Little Man moving, even if it is only because he's being chased.
I finally got L. a stuffed kitty, with comparable size to Little Man, or LeLe MeeMee as L. calls him. And, sometimes, it works as a distraction. (VIDEO)
And I will say after a few days with L., the cats get sufficient treats as compensation. Especially following photo ops like this.
|Little Man: "I've made a huge mistake."|