So the other day Niblet came up to me in the kitchen with a serious look on her face and said, "Mom, do you love Princess more than me?" And of course I scooped her up and gave her the biggest tightest squeeze and told her she was my favorite girl in the whole wide world. And while I was hugging her I bent down to surreptitiously stroke the cat which was nuzzling against my leg.
Because, you guys, this cat is fucking awesome.
I've never had a pet and this is a whole new world for me, taking care of a being that isn't an actual human. Babies I can do, I know the drill. Cats are diving into the unknown. Husband is cracking up because I have this pictogram on my phone of cat tail positions and how they can tell you what your cat is feeling and I'm all "Look her tail is vibrating upright!" (happy) or "uh oh, her tail is wagging...." (bad). In some ways it's taking me back to when Niblet was a colicky newborn. Is that a pained cry or a burp me cry or a run the vacuum next to me cry?
And of course some of my maternal urges are sated right now because well, not to brag, but this kitty seems to have pegged me as her favorite. Clearly she can tell that I run the house.
And yes, I will now be one of those women who posts pictures of their cats everywhere they go.