I always kind of quietly compared having cats to having kids even though I know this causes parents GREAT RAGE. Think about it: they’re needy, entertaining, small soft bundles of light and love, full of poop… But then my brother went and had a baby yesterday and threw light on my dark underworld of cat collection. Now I’m like: MY WHOLE LIFE IS A LIE.
Turns out cats not only are not babies, they are anti-baby barriers repelling men up to two miles away. Life is hard.
Now that I know cats are not man magnets, I keep faith only by maintaining a giant internet crush on Lil Bub’s dad, who loves cats almost as much as I do.
Real men love cats, duh.
When I wasn’t crying uncontrollably or trying to monopolize the baby-holding time yesterday, I told my brother that Baby Charlotte will have all the cats she wants. It took me a solid 16 years to convince my dad to let me have one so I’m playing the game early for my first niece.
Because cat + baby is kind of the ultimate.
I plan to spend most of today trying to get Weaz into a onesie so I can sneak her into the hospital to hang out with the other babies. See ya.