Thursday, 7. February 2013
Post-Harper, it’s safe to say that the cat does not get as much ink. It’s not that he is not deserving, and hasn’t continued to do things that are blog-worthy. They say babies are smart and they learn things quickly – it’s amazing how fast Harper learned to say chocolate and how eagerly she will do the sign for “please” knowing that we get things when we say please, yet she still won’t cover her mouth she coughs. In fact, if you put her hand over her mouth and say, “cover, please”, she will shake her head emphatically and say, “nope.”
Babies basically know how to do everything, and they understand everything you try to teach them, but they pick and choose what they feel like doing. It’s one of the joys of parenthood – the proud moments when they say thank you without you prompting them – and one of the biggest frustrations – why are you screaming to get out of the high chair instead of just saying the words, “all done”?? I KNOW YOU KNOW HOW TO SAY ALL DONE. YOU SAY CHOCOLATE AND POPSICLE.
Anyway, kids aren’t the only smart ones. Cats are smart too. Sanchez has learned that when people cry or throw fits in the middle of the night, they usually get some kind of attention. They are tended to with milk and snuggles and sweet nothings. So, it is inevitable that on nights when Harper sleeps like a baby (and not a spoiled toddler), Sanchez runs amok. I can count on one finger the number of nights where they are BOTH silent for 8 consecutive hours.
When Harper is silent, Sanchez picks up the slack, meowing and scratching our bedroom door incessantly. We have tried sleep training him the same way we did with Harper, which is to say we ignore him. Sometimes he gives up, and sometimes he persists.
I guess it’s safe to say that he doesn’t get as much attention as he used to, but things are slowly starting to turn around now that Harper is older and has an obsession with cats. I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but for the first year of her life, she had no idea Sanchez was even there. She didn’t want anything to do with him, and didn’t understand that he was a living thing that could actually play with her.
Then one day, something clicked and she realized just how cool it was to have her own personal play thing! And, despite the fact that she didn’t understand the difference between gentle petting and slapping (the title of my next sex memoir, btw), he never seemed to care. He would sit there and take everything she threw at him.
As time went on, she learned where his food and treats were, and she’d constantly go to the kitchen and say, “treats”. I thought it was cute to give her Sanchez’ treats so that she could give them to him. Unfortunately, she doesn’t understand that holding the treats in her hand, or putting them in her mouth is pure torture for Sanch. He politely follows her around waiting for her to put the treats on the floor LIKE ANY SANE PERSON WOULD YOU FUCKING SADIST.
We’re still learning that giving Sanchez his treats means giving them to him. They are not yours, they are not your baby dolls, they are for Sanchez. Thankfully, she eventually drops them one by one, and moves on to something else. Then it’s like a scavenger hunt for Sanchez, and he spends the remainder of the day trying to figure out where each gem has been dropped.
But perhaps the most tortuous thing Harper does to Sanchez has to do with water. Sanchez has always been a freak about water. Anyone who has come over to our house and used the restroom knows this. The cat will sit next to the bathroom sink for hours in hopes that someone will turn on the water for him. We used to do it, and then we stopped because he became obsessive about it. But the minute anyone gives him water from the sink (our friendly neighbor cat sat for us, and left the sink running for Sanchez. All during the day!), he will sit there and cry for hours waiting … waiting. So we cut him off cold turkey.
Harper also likes water. It is hard to get her out of the bathtub because she just wants to sit and play with the running water. We’re still trying to teach her not to suck on her washcloth. Let’s be honest, she totally pisses in the tub, and drinking piss water out of the wash cloth that was just used to clean the lint from your neck is not your finest moment.
But, drinking water from the faucet isn’t as bad, so we indulge her from time to time.
And, it’s pure fucking torture for someone.
Have no fear. The minute we leave the bathroom, he gets his fix.