A little boy just joined our clan. Just not quite the one we were expecting.

Meet Lobo. Lobo Marunga.

Can you stand his little crossed eyes? Oh my gosh I’m in love. He purrs like crazy and he cuddles up under my chin and puts his little soft paws on my cheek. I just want to eat him.

We named him after this terribly sappy movie. My one guilty pleasure in the romantic comedy category. My only excuse is that I saw it when I was about 12 and it just caught my imagination.

Remember how just last week I mentioned that Bear always found a way to sneak a little money out of the budget to do something crazy for Christmas? This was it. We’d been talking about getting a little boy ragdoll kitty for ages. Our other two cats are purebreds, and we’ve always harbored thoughts of breeding them, but we didn’t think it would happen for years. We absolutely lucked into the two we already have and we never thought we’d luck into a third. Jem and Cheetara came to us for free (!) when cats of their breed frequently cost up to $600 (!!). Even if we paid full price, it would still be a wise investment, but there’s just no possible way we’re paying that much for a pet. Just no possible way.

Without telling me anything about it, Bear has been scouring Craigslist and the Pennysaver for months. He’s seen them pop up here and there, but never just the right situation. Then, just after New Years, he found him. Someone had gotten little Lobo for their kids for Christmas, and then the landlord wouldn’t let them keep him. So she put him up on Craigslist and within three hours she had 40 phone calls. Bear was the first lucky one who called and was ready to commit right then and there. And we got him for a steal just because she didn’t want to deal with it.

It’s probably the worst possible time. I’m due in just about three months, our kitties are already jumpy with the impending changes they’re sensing, and now there’s a little guy running around, eating their food, getting in their way and trying to pounce on them whenever they sit still. Even though we got a screaming deal on him, we still could have used that money somewhere else.

But who could resist him?

When a little fuzzy gift of love falls into your lap, you just have to be grateful for it and make it work.

I’m typing this entry with one hand because the other is occupied by cradling my cat Cheetara like a baby. She’s in heat right now, and I just love it. When Jem is in heat she makes me crazy because she turns into the whiniest thing in the world and by the end of the day I just want to squish her little mouth shut. But Cheetara just turns into a cuddler. She wants to be cradled, or rocked, or she’ll climb up on my shoulder and give me a hug like a baby needing to be burped.

I’m already way too aware of my creepy dependence on these little fuzzy animals, but when I’m holding my cat like a baby and rocking her back and forth as she cries, even I think I’m in need of a major step back.

A little too much perhaps?

Jem is not so much about the cuddles.

I can’t remember the last time I posted a picture of my babies, maybe never, so here you go.

Jem is the gray one, and Cheetara is the brown one. I’m so beyond obsessed with them. Neither one of them is spayed, and we have plans on breeding them – if anyone knows of an available male ragdoll, PLEASE let me know. They’re driving me crazy. Whenever they yowl at me I swear they’re saying “Mooommm, moommmmm!” Like they’re calling for me.

One time I was on the phone with Kaiser trying to jump through all the red tape to get an appointment, and they started wandering through the house calling after me. They lady on the other end of the phone asked how old my baby was. I just told her she was three.

I know it’s totally crazy cat lady to talk about how intuitive your cat is. I know that this will immediately put me dangerously close to cat sweatshirt person territory, but I can’t help it. My cats are eerily intuitive. Shortly after the miscarriage I had a scary moment which led to me on the floor of the bathroom grabbing my stomach in pain. Jem freaked out. She was pacing all around me, yowling in my ear, licking my face, worried to death about what was happening. To this day, whenever I go back into that room she races after me to act as a spotter.

Here’s Jem being Mr. Bigglesworth:

Cheetara is my teddy bear. Literally. See?

This is her spot every night. We all sleep together like spoons in a drawer. While I was pregnant we would joke that she was being a mama bird because whenever I would lay down on the couch she would come and lay on my abdomen. Not my lap, specifically right on top of my uterus.

I don’t really know how I would have gotten through the past few years without these little fuzzy brats, and that makes me both incredibly grateful for them, and also a little worried about my mental health.

I have two cats that I’m obsessed with. Two ragdoll Himalyans named Jem and Cheetara. They’re my babies, even though I recognize that makes me the crazy cat lady.

Because of their breed, they are the best pets ever. Ragdolls get their name for being so incredibly docile that they just drape themselves over your arms like an old fashioned rag doll. We call them the puppies because they behave nothing like cats. They greet us at the door, they sleep in our bed, they play fetch, go on walks, and the best part is that I don’t have to follow them around with a plastic baggie to hold their poo.

Jem is Bear’s cat, she adores him. She rarely cuddles us, but she has this weird habit of loving to groom people. Whenever we have company over she’ll hop on the back of the couch and try to lick their heads. And whenever either Bear or I get out of the shower she’ll yell at us until we go to the dresser to get our underwear where she’ll jump on top to lick the water from our hair. This morning she got so carried away she actually climbed on top of my head and down my naked back, when she started to slip off and dug her claws in on the way down. I have a huge nasty bloody cat scratch right on the front of my chest from my collarbone to my armpit. Of course it’s right exactly where my bra would lay and it’s too fresh and painful, so I’ve had to go around the house topless today.

I think she did it on purpose to please her favorite Bear.

My cat is Cheetara, and she is the most affectionate cat I’ve ever seen. Earlier today I was laying in bed and I picked her up and held her like a baby. She looked up at me with those huge Puss in boots eyes and put her paw on my face. Bear thought he was going to go into sugar shock the scene was so sweet.

Right now they are both in heat. Which ups the cuddle factor twice as high. They never leave my side now and are screaming for attention. Every time this happens I feel like I’ve got a teething two year old and by the time the week is over I’m ready to throw them out the window. Bear comes back from work and I throw the little mutts at him saying, “You deal with them for a while, I’m sick of em!”

I find it to be supremely unfair that they are so regularly in heat while I can’t get pregnant. Just rub it right in my nose and then twist the knife in my heart while you’re up there.

I can’t help it, I still love the little buggers.