Some folks have asked me how the cats (specifically, Murray) have dealt with our new addition. In typical feline fashion, they’ve all dealt with Emory in very different ways. Let me explain.
Pookum is very aware of Emory. She looks at him as if she’s trying to figure him out. She rarely goes near him and whenever she does, she uses his head as a chin-scratching post or she’ll headbutt him for a hug. I think Pookum is grateful that Emory doesn’t bother her because every other member of the household does. Pookum is an old lady. If she were human she’d be living in Florida, playing Bingo every day, remarried to a millionaire.
Tucker is surprisingly gentle around Emory. He won’t touch him. And whenever he’s near, he slows his pace to that of a sloth. It’s kind of like when you’re nearing a sharp turn while driving and you slow down for safety. Emory is Tucker’s turn. He is very cautious. And I’m grateful for Tucker’s delicate demeanor if for no other reason than it helps counter Murray’s behavior.
Whenever Murray acknowledges the fact that Emory is around, he totally disregards Emory’s personal space. He doesn’t want to hurt Emory, not at all. He’s more interested in playing with him or taking over his crib, stealing his food, or standing on his head and chest. Murray isn’t jealous of Emory at all. He’s merely trying to understand why he does what he does. For example, why does Emory do nothing but lie around the house all day? Why hasn’t he started running wildly through the house? Why doesn’t Emory know how to use the litterbox yet? What does the fat bald thing eat anyway? Does he like cupcakes? And why can’t he lick his own ass?
Emory perplexes Murray but not enough for Murray to air on the side of caution like Tucker does. Instead, Murray really believes that he alone can jump-start Emory by running up and over his squirming body, or slapping one of his moving feet, joining him in his crib, or running off with his dirty diaper.
We warn Emory about Murray almost every day. “Stay away from that guy, Emory. He’s crazy.” Or “You see the fuzzy grayish striped one? He’s insane and will eat your food if you’re not looking.”
Unbeknownst to Murray, however, is that in just 2 years, Emory could possible become Murray’s worst nightmare. Tails will be grabbed in spite of my instructing otherwise. Heads will be tapped, butts will be chased, favorite nap spots will be pooped, peed, puked upon. Murray is going to be Emory’s childhood pet. But we haven’t yet told Murray. We’ve decided to keep this a secret for as long as possible.
Look at Emory holding on with his little monkey hand!
(I’m not saying your baby looks like a monkey, just, you know, baby humans and monkeys are the same. cute.)
You have your animals mixed up. He looks like a chicken! Well, some of the time. We call him Chicken Little. He does resemble a monkey as well.
Ohhhh, isn’t he the cutest little guy! What a sweet baby!
Yes, but he has cute little frog legs. Champion frog legs! (based on his champion arms in the above photo)
It’s good to know that Murray has welcomed Emory to the family and is treating him just like the he does the rest of you, that little striped scoundrel.
What a cute shirt on a very cute baby!
I love how Tobyjoe is carrying both of his babies over his shoulder.
holy cow is that kid cute. I want to chew his cheeks right off his face. and those legs. Perhaps it is an Italian thing but we always want to eat the cute babies.
Fascinating about your cats’ personalities.
It’s funny how different a baby can look from picture to picture. In the profile picture, Emory looks all Toby. In the picture in the music post, he reminds me so much of Simone at that age (if you added Toby’s nose to her). I guess that means he got the Howley eyes:)
BTW, you are totally underestimating when Emory will become Murray’s worst nightmare. He will find the cats interesting by the time he is a year. Shep and Daisy are actually big buddies. Daisy will let him pat on her and for the most part he is pretty gentle.
That is such a sweet photo. I like how Emory & Murray are both staring intently at something to their sides.