baby and cat

My First “Son”

The saying goes something along the lines of, “if you can handle a dog, you can handle a kid.” Well, we all know that isn’t exactly true, but there are lots of hypothetical, and perhaps practical similarities with having both pets and children. I certainly won’t go so far as to say they are the same, because, well, they aren’t. But, I also can’t argue that they aren’t more similar than some would like to believe.

Our two cats have been with us since they were bottle-fed infants, and before Isabel, they were our “children.” And like children, they have grown from babies that couldn’t even jump on the bed, into kids that terrorized us at all hours of the night, and now more mellow adults. They are moody, playful, and provide unconditional love  (albeit, sometimes on their terms).

Aside from one formerly being obese, they have been healthy, happy cats. Diego (in below video) is a free spirit, roams the neighborhood, but always comes back at night to sleep with us, purring like a damn race car in our ears. He’s actually more like a dog (read: needy) – he seeks attention, wants to snuggle, and succumbs to Isabel’s horseplay like a rag-doll. Frida on the other hand is a diva (yes, they are named Diego and Frida). She has special food (refer to aforementioned obesity), wakes me up in the middle of the night to eat, and only wants attention on her terms.

https://instagram.com/p/p4ovkLIqFj/?taken-by=fortyweekslater

 

The amount of attention we are able to give to them has certainly diminished, but I will always consider them my first children. They were with us when Mrs. FWL and I first moved in together, they were within earshot of my marriage proposal, they freaked out greeted us when we brought home Isabel, and they will hopefully be with us for many years to come.

Even more so than kids, animals are creatures of habit. They eat at similar times, sleep in the same places, and act in predictable ways. And just like when your kid seems “off” for whatever reason, the same is true with pets – we just know. If they don’t come home one night, we worry. If they are sick, we wonder why. And if they don’t move from the same spot for 12 hours, have yellow eyes, feel hot, and don’t eat…we freak the fuck out and quickly fear the worst.

Diego got a massive infection affecting most of his digestive organs, and returned from the hospital on Sunday with a feeding tube and a drug store. We may never know exactly how sick he was/is, as our vet (aka Super Dr. Tia/Aunt/Sister-In-Law) played gatekeeper – relaying enough info so we knew what was going on and could care for him, but not too much to really know what was going on. (The medical jargon would make your head spin.)

Who knows what would have happened if we didn’t act when we did, and I would be lying if I didn’t have moments where I thought he was going to die, wondering if Isabel would even realize he was missing. It saddened me that she would not remember or have the joy of interacting with him when she could really appreciate his uniqueness and thirst for our affection because as anyone who has met him will tell you, he is not a normal cat.

Thankfully, he is on the mend, and we can take our heads out of the darkness. Fingers-crossed and wood-knocked that this is a one-time ordeal, because like kids, sick pets take an emotional…and financial toll on your life.


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