When we moved in, our first order of business was to find a kitten. Not because we feared a rodent infestation, but because we had wanted one for sometime. With two kids and full-time jobs, we knew that we wanted a pet that was pretty low maintenance and something that the children would enjoy.
When our kitten first came to play she was super tiny. I was so afraid to hold her (as if she was a newborn baby) and she was scared to be in my arms (she probably thought I was a predator). As soon as I put her down she ran to the closet/smallest/darkest place she could find like it was a zombie apocalypse. It didn’t help that she was super sensitive to (literally) every sound she heard in the house. Someone could cross their leg or walk across the floor and she would dart.
What seemed like forever for her to adjust to our home, was actually only a few months before she showed her true colors! In typical cat fashion she began to roam the house and find things that I did not notice during my “move-in cleaning frenzy”. When I would return from work she would be covered in dust, long hairs, and strange fabric.
“So…Biscuit. I see you’ve had a pretty busy day,” I would say to her and her rebuttals were always the same tired, “meow” as if someone forced her to explore and get into things. Some nerve she had, if only I could get out of sticky situations with the same tired excuse…
To this day she still gets into things like clawing on the shower curtain or scratching up the side of the couch. We’re used to it, but try to make more of a conscious effort to close doors and deter her from destroying furniture. “Get down, Biscuit!” my daughter constantly shouts. Biscuit likes to play and get her attention, but she gets to focused on her tablet to have time for her. Biscuit’s largest crime to date is poaching food from a certain little person during meal time.
My son will sit in his high chair minding his business and enjoying his meal when all of a sudden Biscuit jumps onto his head and starts taking the food he is eating right of his hand. GOT YA! This crazy scenario is only half true. She will usually go under his high chair in the hopes of getting any food that doesn’t make it to the promise land or sit and wait for him to feed her!
Yes. You read that completely right. My son, who is 17 months, feeds the cat. I wish I could stop giving him food that I know will end up in Biscuit’s mouth, unfortunately that would mean that he will never see a single vegetable on his tray and eat the same two meals for the rest of his life. What type of mother would I be to condemn him to chicken nuggets with french fries or spaghetti for the rest of his life?
So I continue to put stuff that he does not like onto his tray and hope that one day he will humor me and eat half of the items on his tray that he dislikes. If not, don’t be surprise if you read a post titled “How to put your cat on a diet by stopping your son from ‘sharing’ his food”.
Love your kitty,