There's Nothing Scarier Than a Cat Suddenly Acting Like a Cat

We have two cats ... and then we have Ali. Despite her whiskers, tiny paws, and propensity to meow loudly when she wants something, I'm not entirely sure she qualifies as a "cat." She's more of a ... special flower.


Let's go with that.

We're talking about the so-called "cat" who can't remember where her food bowl is. It's been in the exact same place for her entire life, but we had a nightly ritual where she announced she was hungry and I would show her where to find her food. She's nearly completely invisible because she often spends days and weeks on end hiding.

She's also a thief.

I'm sure I've written about it before, but it bears repeating that the so-called "cat" has an Ariel-complex. She finds whozits and whatzits and she hoards them away in a secret place. She steals Alexis' shoes, small toys disappear, and once she took my work ID badge out of my purse and tucked it away somewhere safe. But don't worry, three months after it first disappeared, it magically reappeared in the middle of the dining room floor. I'm sure I left it there and then just didn't notice it for three months. Yep.

That's all odd, sure, but things REALLY got weird after Mila was born. While the other two NORMAL cats shy away from Mila and have decided to dedicate themselves to Alexis (because she didn't carry a tiny screaming human into the house), Ali is suddenly ... a thing. As in, I've actually seen her lately. I think maybe I've seen her every day for a few months now.


But it's not just that I've seen her--I've seen her in rooms I am absolutely positive she didn't know existed before. I've seen her sleeping in the family room, even. She previously hadn't set foot in there. Seriously.

She also hasn't cried for food. Suddenly she is able to remember where it is.

Ali has been greeting me when I get home. She has been sleeping with me at night. She's downright friendly these days.


The only explanation is that something about having Mila around has helped her control her anxiety. I don't pretend to understand it. Nor do I preten to understand why Ali did this.

Yarn. Ali picked up the yarn, carried it through the family room and dining room, hauled it up the stairs, and then left it on the edge of the loft. Either she's plotting to make something lovely for Mila or she's preparing to go Roadrunner on our asses and start dropping things on our heads.

 (The torn paper is tiny teeth marks where she must have picked it up and it tore, so she had to pick it up all over again.)

I think I'd prefer if Ali would try the typical cat reaction to a baby. Avoiding sounds better than whatever this craziness is that is happening.


Mila the Mala

Alexis has a harebrained scheme to convince me that she's injured badly enough to need crutches. I don't know why, I just know that she's convinced crutches are fun (THEY ARE NOT). Thus, the tiny little scratch on her foot is obviously life-threatening. And if she steps on her left foot? It's clearly broken. Or was it her right foot that's broken? She's not sure. She just knows that she's going to keep trying to convince me that crutches are her thing.

Annnnnnd on the other side of the spectrum, we have Mila. Her eardrum ruptured last week and we didn't know. The only reason we found out was that she had a nagging cough and her nose wouldn't stop trying to run away, so we took her to the doctor. Surprise! The baby has a sinus infection! And an eye infection! And an ear infection! And all the other infections!

Mila was a hot mess, is what I'm saying. Except, she wasn't a mess. She was perfectly pleasant and happy all day every day. Nights are always a different story with the little Gremlin, so it really was pure instinct that led to me insisting she needed to see a doctor.

Mom instincts rule once you learn to listen to them.

Which is why I'm beginning to wonder if I should follow those instincts and give our pediatrician a stern Mom Glare. Dude has seen Mila 5-6 times in the past few months for ear infections (the poor Tiny Human should probably just go ahead and get in line for ear tubes now). I'm thinking maybe, just MAYBE, he should start pronouncing her name correctly. I don't actually mind when people pick the wrong way of the two possibilities. However, since we're paying enough for him to put his kids to college, I think it's fair to have high expectations.

Not that giving the pediatrician the Mom Glare will do anything about the automated calls we get from his office.

The office uses an automated system to call and remind you that you have an appointment. It's obviously a robo voice because you can hear it figuring out how to proceed between each word. When it calls, it leaves a voicemail that says, "We are calling to remind you that Mala has an appointment ...."



That's Spanish for "bad," just in case you didn't catch that little fun fact.

Little does the system know, it's the other kid who is a bad hypochondriac as of late.