When I was in the work force and childless, I recall having a conversation with a co-worker, which really irked me. At the time, this co-worker I’ll call Jack, had one son and I had two beloved cats that meant the world to myself and my then-boyfriend-now -husband. Bubba, the oldest cat and Theo the young one were very much like our babies, we completely related to people that treated their pets like royalty and we totally poo-pooed people that were not animal friendly. I honestly think we even felt suspicious of people who said they were allergic to cats, oh sure you are… you animal hating jerk.

So when Jack and I were talking one afternoon I remember asking him if he had any pets and he replied, “No… but once you have a kid you sort of get over that.” -WHAT?!?! I was horrified, first at the thought that anyone would compare their child to a puppy and second that having a child might somehow diminish one’s desire to have loving pets. It was too much for my childless mind to comprehend, I told my significant other the story and he too was flabbergasted.

Then you get pregnant. Then you get realllllly pregnant, so pregnant that you don’t want a hot bag of fur lying anywhere near you, drooling on you, kneading his prickly paws into you and you start to think, ‘Ugh, anyone want a cat?’ but for shame! No, no I didn’t think that, these kitties had been in the picture for a long time and they were not going to be thrown outside in all kinds of weather. No, I wouldn’t do it, I wouldn’t let my mother-in-law and my mom and all the other on-lookers be right. These cats were our responsibility and we would continue to love them and cherish them and… oh hey I can’t clean cat boxes now that I’m pregnant mwahahah - it’s all yours honey.

THEN, you bring the baby home. It’s the tiniest, sweetest creature you’ve ever seen, it’s love and it’s beautiful and perfect and you want to swaddle it with the finest blankies and cover it in delicate kisses and somebody throw that stinkin’ cat outside he’s laying on the changing table! Suddenly, just like that I understood what Jack was talking about. I had to clean up my baby’s poop, that was fine, understandable of course, but these two cats too? Oh man, no thanks. That beloved spot on the bed where the fleabags used to cuddle up is taken - sorry guys you’re out of luck. That spot is for this noisy, stinky, flailing little bundle that you’re so curious about but I wont let you near - now run along.

Everything happened as all the experienced parents around us predicted, damnit, we didn’t want it too. We wanted to be the exception, we love our cats (even still, I swear) we weren’t throwing them out we just needed them to give us a little space. I have to admit I hit my own brink of ridiculousness when I made this call to my daughters pediatrician:
Betty: My 6 month old’s eye appears slightly red and I’m worried about it.
Nurse: Do you know what might have caused it?
Betty: Yes… my 10yr old cat was napping near her and he was quite happy about that. When he purrs alot and gets worked up he drools and a drop of his drool slid into her eye I’m afraid. (clinching my teeth as I hear myself telling this absurd story)
Nurse: (Silence)…I’m going to call you back.
She called me back to investigate this, asked around her office to see if anyone had heard of a purring cat that drools (why would I make that up?) after I’m sure many a good laugh it was confirmed that this sort of thing could happen and Chlid Protective Services shouldn’t necessarily be called on me. They offered up some eye drops and told me to wash it out with water plenty and keep my eye on it. This isn’t what got the cats thrown outside officially, it was a stepping stone incident on a long slow path out the door.

Really the deal breaker was when we moved to a new place. We found a house to rent. Boom, a yard, Bam, my sweet, dedicated pet owner of a husband wouldn’t have to clean one more cat box if these guys could figure out that the world is their litterbox. They did. The one cat that used to dart for the door like a angry prisoner was happy. The Mama was happy (me) because it meant a little less vacuuming up cat hair constantly and the baby was just fine with the arrangement. For a while…

The happy ending to this story is that the family pets do have their day. For babies grow up, all too fast. They become inquisitive toddlers that want to play with these real life stuffed animals. Our cats, our really terrific cats, put up with it, they put up with the tail pulling, ear yanking, fur chomping little toddler girl, who they must have known - loved them with every fiber of her curious little being. At worst they would run away but never swipe or lay a paw on her through out all that. So… they worked their way back into the house in the winter. No cat box to clean and the furry friends win a new best friend in my little girl who now loves them as much as my husband and I did when we didn’t have a lovely little lady to focus all that love on.