More Babies = More Rules

The new kid has brought more rules with him. Every day it seems I hear Sam run down the list with Jen or Josh:

1. No crashing.

2. No grabbing.

3. No bonking with my head.

4. No pushing.

5. No hitting.

6. No saying poopy-head.

7. No licking clothes.

That #7 seems especially harsh. I mean, I admit to sometimes probing with my tongue - the mouth is very sensitive and you just need to taste the difference between 400 and 200 count sheets. My paws have dulled over the years, but my palette - sharp as a tack.

And we all know that there are a lot of unspoken rules too. Jen just doesn't like a lot of things, so we could add

8. No using the tin whistle as a horse; the tin whistle is only for music.

9. No making throw up noises, especially if we see your tongue exit your mouth.

10. Only give Rufus half a scoop of dry food - miserly!

11. Hand Mommy what you want help with; don't throw it.

12. Don't drop the used tissue behind the TV stand.

Children seem to breed negativity. What do parents say yes to? That is the litmus test of the mentoring relationship that is parenthood. While that is being worked out, we are free in our minds to do all the clothes licking, vomit sounds, and tissue-dropping we want. Jen's eyes can't be everywhere at once.

Darn

It finally happened. Jen woke up on Wednesday in a weird mood and breathing really loud every so often. I just wanted my wet food, and I had to wait for Sam to open my doors for me. (He is good for several things, at least.) So the family disappeared for a while, but came back with an extra person.

Darn.

So far, the second one doesn't seem interested in my tail or in grabbing, generally. I've been keeping to myself, in the great outdoors, trying to take it all in. Jen sits around a lot. I will try to join her one of these days so I can get a closer look at the one they call "Teddy." We'll also see if he reaches for my tail. The interest in tail with inform my judgment for now.

Lunchtime Maligning Me

Jen: We chew with our mouths closed. Rufus chews with his mouth open.

Sam: Noooooo, Rufus chews with his mouth closed.

Jen, chagrined: Oh, Rufus does? We all chew with our mouths closed.

Sam: Yeah.

Thank you for defending my honor, Sam!

I know - I think - that Jen means well, but I don't think that by maligning my eating habits she will instill good manners in Sam. The proof will be in the pudding ... well, in how the pudding is eaten, actually. Besides, cat teeth are made for ripping flesh, and raw meat is sticky and requires a lot of licking and mouth-open chewing. Kibble is difficult to maneuver with large, sharp teeth so also requires some smacking and very loud crunching. Cut me some slack!

Helping in the Kitchen?

Thre are so many things wrong with this. First, why is Sam allowed up on the counter? I've never even seen what is up there and he gets to put his paws all over it?! I'm not even allowed on most of the furniture, or, hell, even in most of the house.

Second, this kid is clearly a menace. Jen gets all freaked out about my hair. Oh, Rufus, you're getting your hair on everything, stop rubbing against me which is just your sign of affection that I don't even want. But, hey, Hurricane Sam can not only touch the counters, but is encouraged to make a mess. I watched. He helps clean up by wiping everything onto the floor. Even I know that is not what humans mean when they want cleanup. And I can tell you from constant exposure, that this floor cannot handle much more grime.

How will they ever manage two? Will I have to make room in the utility room for Sam?

Et tu, Brute?

Do you ever wonder, Who are those people who raise bullies?

Jen and Josh - that's who. Quoth: On the playground this morning Sam pushed a friend causing him to hit the bridge of his nose on a metal pole. Now, aside from the lack of commas and very confusing use of pronouns, I think we get the point: Sam is a brute. Of course, I have been well aware of this for a long time. I could see it developing way back when he scooted merrily along the floor in my direction. Oh, so cute, he wants to pet the cat. No, not cute. Most decidedly uncute. He is now adept at tail-pulling and then jumping out of the way of my claw swipe. All I hear out of Jen's mouth is Look out. Rufus might scratch you. Hello! Who has approached whom in this scenario? I think we can conclude that Sam's bully nature started at home, with me.

And looky-loo at what we've got now. We can only hope that Jen and Josh do a better job with the second one. Sam is clearly a lost cause.

Even though he knows the continents and months.