Not Even a Hairless Cat

I’m getting a lot of pressure from the short people in this house.  The people who couldn’t even keep sea monkeys alive are begging for a cat.  No amount of insisting that it’s not happening will shush them.

It started when Molly was a toddler.  We had a bunny, and I don’t think that she understood that my friend’s cat was not a bunny.  She kept following the poor elderly cat around and shouting “hop hop hop” in its face.  After that she had a lot of fairly negative experiences with cats  and their claws.  Who knew that a nursing home would have a vicious guard cat as a pet?  But somewhere along the line she has decided that she looooovvvveeeessss them and will die without one.

The problem is that Grace and I will die with one.

Or at least want to.

We’re both allergic.

I can fend off the pleadings of one child, but over the past couple of years Maggie has joined in on the begging.  And when she asks for something using sentences and pointing it is not unlike the spell that Puss in Boots casts with his soulful giant eyes.  Except she doesn’t carry a sword.  Please Lord, no one give that girl a sword.

puss in boots

Molly had a pet store birthday party when she turned 9 and Maggie watched the kitten the way I watch cake, just waiting until it was her turn to hold it.  Then she scooped it up in her arms, declared “The kitten – Maggie’s bedroom,” and tried to smuggle it up to her room.

I think she thought the animals were the loot bags.

And then there was the time that I took the kids to the pet store to buy cat food.  You would think that I would have remembered the outraged cries of “THE CAT!” in the parking lot.  But I am sad to say that we did it again this year.  Maggie was more composed in her request this time with requests of “The kitten.  My house.  Maggie.  The kitten.”  And she made sure to get her request in while we were still in the store.  It was hard for me to hear her though amidst Molly jumping up and down, eyes wide like she had taken her entire month’s worth of stimulants, hissing “I would literally do anything for a pet cat,” in a manner that seemed more threatening than merely an offer to do extra chores.  Then there was Grace’s dramatic “I will DIE without that fish,” performance that I should have recorded as her Shakespeare audition tape.

We’re not getting a cat.  No, not even a hairless one like Molly has suggested.

All I can think of is that one that Rachel had on Friends and Guenther saying “What is it…some kind of snake?”  Speaking of which, have you been watching Friends on Netflix this month?  I forgot how much I love that show, and how many of the lines are in Nerdguy’s and my repertoire of jokes.

The best I can do for them is show them cats on TV.  Cartoon cats at that.  We sat down and watched the new exclusive series on Netflix last weekend The Adventures of Puss in Boots.   The first five episodes are streaming right now!

Puss In Boots Netflix

We watched four on Saturday night and the fifth on Sunday, and re-watched our favourite – episode two.  It was filled with humour, which I always look for in any show really but especially a kids’ show.  It’s been on perma-play by the kids all week.  Especially episode two – the kids have some kind of super-concentrated sugar and it’s rather entertaining watching the kids turn into ADHD poster children – best line was when one kid said “I can smell your thoughts!” because I always tease Nerdguy about being able to smell colours when he is particularly alert on his meds.  And there’s even a hairless cat in this episode, who sounds strangely like my teenaged niece.

They seem pretty happy for now with their cartoon cat, and I am thrilled that this one doesn’t give me hives.

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