Cats and BSparl.
Don't think that you can come in here and be all small and cute and expect us to love you. Everyone keeps coming by and cooing over "Oh, how much hair you have!" and "You sweet baby, you make the silliest faces!" They want to marvel over your teeny hands and teeny feet, and the little snaps on your newborn baby clothes. They hold you and rock you and sing to you and when you burp, they laugh at how cute your burps are.
Not us, though. We're on to you.
Don't think we've forgotten that WE used to run this joint. It was once all about us, and how small and snuggly we were. How soft our fur was and how much we made her laugh. Kerri used to write posts about how we'd make silly faces and even how we'd alert her to low blood sugars.
Siah feels like she's in jail these days, with the baby in the house.
Please. You think we're going to alert her to anything, when first she replaced us with that Dexcom thing, and now she's replaced us with YOU?
Don't you hear the noises you make, baby? You wail at a decibel that even we, as cats, can't tolerate. For something so small, your lungs are acutely developed and capable of some serious sounds. We tend to hide under the bed, but not because we're scared. We're actually under there, all three of us, conferencing: "She's LOUD, right?"
And those white things ... the diapers? Yeah, those. We think Kerri and Chris should be thankful that we use a litter box and it only has to be dealt with every other day or so. You, baby? Require attention in your nether regions every two hours or so, shooting out epic yellow poops on a whim. But we can't figure it out, BSparl. They like, celebrate your crap. They say, "Oh, that's a good one," and they mark it as some kind of success in a book by your changing table. They're never celebrated our offerings, even when we leave them outside of the litter box so they can get a better look. Most we get is an "EW! Which one of you crapped on the floor??" We don't feel appreciated for our efforts, that's for damn sure.
BSparl, you don't know how good you've got it. These two idiots worship you, even when you're gross. Appreciate that, little baby, because they buy the groceries for this house, so it's good to be on their side. And besides, they've purchased you all these fun things to sleep in, that we are trying to 'share' with you, but they aren't having it yet.
Abby seriously digs the bouncy chair.
We, as a cat collective, know that we'll warm to you eventually. Because once you are able to work the can opener, you'll be useful to us.