Too Late.

Mobility is the Pits

Now that we’ve gotten this pesky post-partum depression shit out of the way (woo) I’ve been able to actually have some fun watching this wiggly little worm slowly become a wiggly little person.

The animals are watching as well. Watching very closely.

Kelsey has no fear. Since day one the dogs have been in her face and Ares insists on licking her clean from head to toe at least once a day. When greeted by any strange dog, she smiles and opens her mouth for some French kissing. She didn’t even bat an eye at a group of two Great Danes and an Irish Wolfhound that towered over her with love. But now she has some motor skills, and has gotten very good with hand-to-mouth motions.

The dogs give her a wide berth whenever she’s not safely contained within her pack-n-play. Ares will venture a few licks on her feet when she’s strapped into the bouncer but once the arms start waving, he’s gone. It only took a couple fistfuls of hair removed to teach both dogs to stay away.

Onyxia, however, is some kind of masochist.

The cat will rub her head into Kelsey’s open hand and let her ear get pulled into a waiting, gummy maw. The other hand finds something to do in gripping the shit out of Onyxia’s side. The cat will slowly melt to the floor and wait for Ares or Orion to come investigate. Then she takes out her frustration on them.

She knows Kelsey has to let go eventually, so she waits it out. And when the grip is released, I make sure to rub where the pain was dealt so she doesn’t feel TOTALLY hated. But then something amazing happens.

 She comes right back.

 This is the cat who tried to trip me down the basement stairs throughout my pregnancy. Who hides behind furniture and launches at anything that passes. Who tries to cram herself through the baby gate and cries all night like an asshole. The cat that destroyed an entire rug and a hardwood floor from pissing around her litter box more than in it. The cat that answers to “Bitch” before “Onyxia.”

If I had been told when we adopted Onyxia that she’d make an excellent family cat and would allow herself to be chewed on, I never would’ve believed it. Not bad for an ex-hoarded shelter cat.