Reasons why I love my cat

The six elaborate reasons behind why it’s appropriate for me to dress my baby up and take her for walks in her stroller

In August of 2019, I adopted a cat. In March of 2020, six months later, I realized that I, in fact, did not adopt a cat. I adopted a baby disguised as a cat; a smol human being the universe had mistakenly placed inside a feline physique. These are some reasons why my baby, Biba, is commonly mistaken for a house cat:

1. Have you ever felt a baby? Not a toddler, not an adolescent, not your 27-year-old ex who still lives in his mom’s basement and doesn’t do his own laundry, but a baby. If you have not, let me enlighten you. A freshly baked human baby is soft as fuck—for comparison’s sake, a human baby is about as soft as Kleenex tissue paper (yes, the one with moisturizer in it). An argument can and will be made that on the basis of softness, my baby is softer than a human baby and therefore should and will be considered as such on the basis of this softness. Cats are soft, and my cat-baby is particularly soft—definitely softer than a human baby.
2. Human babies sleep. Like, a lot. Human babies sleep all the time. They sleep in car rides, they sleep in arms, they sleep in cribs. My baby also sleeps a lot, she sleeps in car rides, arms, all over the floor, an empty container you wouldn’t expect her to fit in, the sink, the bathtub (we will come back to the bathtub), under covers, on pillows, on laptops, in empty washing machines. My baby sleeps a lot, in more places than the average human baby sleeps. Her sleeping is more versatile, more creative, and more convenient. She excels at sleeping. Human babies do not necessarily excel at sleeping, especially in such a comparable variety of locations, but my baby is an absolute expert.
3. Human babies cry. If babies get hungry, they cry; if they’re not held, they cry; if they’re held for too long, they cry; if they’re held by someone they don’t like, they cry; if they don’t nap, they cry. We’ve already addressed my baby’s superior sleeping abilities, but let’s address some other comparisons in the way of crying. The only time my baby cries is if she’s not getting belly rubs. Yes, sometimes that’s at 5 am. Yes, sometimes that means I need to drop what I’m doing and give her fluffy tummy some well-deserved scratches. Is this inconvenient? Absolutely not. There will never be a time when giving my baby belly rubs is an issue. Day or night, I think we can all agree that giving cats belly rubs is a necessary human experience we are lucky to have at any time the baby so desires.
4. I told you I would get back to the bathtub. Babies don’t typically like the bath. I don’t know why they don’t like it, they just don’t. Personally, I love getting my hair shampooed by someone else and the fact that any human (regardless of age) would turn down this experience baffles me to no end and always will. My baby loves the bath. The average human being assumes, as the internet has falsified this greatly, that the cat-baby does not and will not like water. My baby loves baths. She will sit in the bathtub with me when I shower, she will let me splash a little water on her, she will roll around in a very, (I am a responsible parent) very shallow bath if I draw it for her. She even has her own all-organic, completely safe, cat soap. We don’t use her soap all the time, maybe once every couple months, just because I don’t want to dry out her skin or irritate her ears (when washing your baby you must be very careful of their ears, water in there could lead to ear infections, just FYI). Since August, there has not been a time when I have not had to coax my baby into a bath. If anything, I have to coax her out of one. I’d call this winning the Mom lottery, but my baby isn’t smelly (like, ever) but again, I’d call that another win for cat-babies, and cat-moms everywhere.
5. She’s really fucking cute. She’s a little chubby, but what baby isn’t a little chonk, and if anything, a little chonk adds to the overall cuteness percentage. Need I say more? Certainly not.
6. She likes to be swaddled. I don’t know why, I guess she feels safe. Isn’t that what all babies like about being held and wrapped up like a little fluff burrito, the safety of another human being’s warmth and love? My baby loves this, and what’s even better is that she will never outgrow it. In human years, my cat is about 25, in cat years that’s about 2 years old. What 25-year-old likes to be swaddled? (University of Toronto students are not factored into this question, as we all definitely like to be swaddled every now and again. It’s okay, I’ve been there. But you feel safe, right! It’s nice.) My baby, no matter how old she gets, will always be my baby.

The next time you see us walking through the streets of Toronto, on our way to the grocery store, or just out for a stroll, please do not ask me why I think it’s appropriate for my baby to be all swaddled up and freshly bathed in her stroller napping peacefully. She is, after all, my baby, and that’s what you do with babies. Isn’t it?