Family


Our Daughter, Our Pet

13 May 2011
Friday at 3:25 pm (Eastern Time)

When I was 12, my mother decided to help a coworker's father. He had befriended a stray alley cat and regularly fed her when she'd show up at his door. One evening, his sweet molly came home a knocked up queen. Her tom was nowhere to be seen; but, he had performed admirably. In due course, as these things go, she produced a litter of unwanted kittens. My mother's friend's father wasn't interested in full-time cat care, so he was trying to get rid of them. This is how we came into possession of a beautiful, tiny, blue-eyed alley cat that we promptly dubbed "Tigger." She was black, white, and gray with cat show-quality markings. She was playful and energetic until she went crazy in her dotage. She now lives under the china cabinet in a small box of ashes with a bronze plaque with her name on it.

Cats are truly amazing animals. The Talmud, (Eruvin, 100b), quotes Rabbi Yochanan, who says that we can learn modesty from cats since they prefer to do their business in private and subsequently cover it all up. Very hygienic, these independent little creatures. When we took Tigger to the vet for the first time, I remember the doctor telling us that all a cat really needs from people is to open closed doors and clean their litter boxes. God only knows what we would be facing if cats had opposable thumbs! They would probably be running the planet (as they were in New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York). If we didn't learn modesty as R' Yochanan suggests, we certainly would learn curiosity. Besides humans, cats are probably one of the most inquisitive animals on Planet Earth. They are such fun to watch as they explore from one end of the house to the other...then do it all over again the next day as if the whole world had changed while they slept.

As I watched Rotem crawling around the apartment yesterday, I couldn't help but see a kitten on the prowl and not a little girl crawling this way and that. Our apartment is not particularly large, and I'm sure that even at 11 months, 3 weeks, she can probably get around blindfolded. Still, she explores every nook and cranny as if it were her first time looking in that corner or around that chair. She could probably spend all day rooting around in the kitchen, just to do it again the next day. When she's not exploring or upending everything in sight, she's sleeping, just like Tigger. I guess one burns a lot of calories with all that snooping.

She eats like a cat too. Tigger and Ella (our other cat) were both very delicate eaters. Neither was a pig, and neither would take larger bites than they needed. Rotem, too, is very dainty when she eats. And, like a cat, she will lean down and eat directly from the palm of your hand (although she can feed herself when she chooses). Fortunately, her diet consists of more than just boxed cat food (if it were on the floor, though, I'm sure it would go in her mouth—much like Ella, who would try to eat anything in sight).

While she doesn't purr like a cat, she definitely moves her head around to ensure you rub or kiss the right places. She stretches just like a lazy cat. Her delicate and demure cooing can sometimes be misinterpreted as the soft mews of a hungry kitten. Last night, we discovered yet another similarity between our sweet baby Rotem and Felis catus. We go gaga over every noise and evocation of her angelic bella voce; yet, we were surprised—but certainly not pleasantly—to learn at 3 a.m. that this little 18 lb. ball of joy can shriek like a cat in heat.

A father's love

09 April 2011
Saturday at 9:30 pm (Eastern Time)

I spent the better part of last night listening to my daughter exercise her lungs. Who knew that such a small thing could pack in so much raw energy? If she were belting out "Che gelida manina" from Puccini's La Bohème or "Mon cœur s'ouvre à ta voix" from Saint-Saëns' Samson et Dalila, I would have applauded her artistic abilities. Even if she were performing her own cover of Queen's " Bohemian Rhapsody," I would have given her props for her taste in music (it was, after all, one of the many songs she regularly heard in utero). Sadly, while my poor baby may have been stretching the golden pipes, music it was not. It was the high-pitched shrieking that babies seem to muster only after the clock strikes one in the morning. For over an hour, I had the privilege to listen to this performance and several encores.

I'm not proud to say it, but shaking her into submission did cross my mind several times. It's very sad that babies are shaken and beaten to death; but, now that I have one, I have a bit more sympathy than I would have had a year ago. I can only imagine how difficult it is for a young couple who are already highly stressed because of a new baby and all the changes in their lives. Then, add to that stress several weeks of sleep deprivation because of a colicky baby. It can be a pressure cooker waiting to explode. Sadly, the infants are the ones who suffer the most.

Fortunately for my wife, my baby, and me, I do not have a violent streak, which seems to be the final ingredient to the deadly shaken baby cocktail. Instead of doing any harm to my crying baby, I simply walked into her room at regular intervals, leaned down, kissed her on the head, and told her that everything would be OK. She needed to go to sleep just like everyone else in the building needed to go to sleep. At some point around three a.m. she seemed to have gotten the idea and finally fell asleep. Alas, it was only for a few hours; but that was enough to allow me to get a few hours of shuteye before she started up again around six.

This morning, as we lay in bed with the baby between us, I looked at her sitting up on the bed playing with her feet and cooing. I was reminded of all the reasons I didn't throttle her last night and would never think of doing harm to her, even as I toss and turn in bed trying to drown out the sound of a shrieking baby at two in the morning:

  • Walking in the door after a long day at the office to see her smiling from ear to ear
  • Hearing her utter some random noise that if you turn your head just right, squint your eyes, and scrunch your nose sort of sounds like "daddy"
  • Seeing her stretch her hands up to me to be picked up
  • Watching her crawl for the first time
  • Watching her stand on her own for the first time
  • Seeing her sitting amidst all the tissue that she has just removed from a new box of Kleenex
  • Holding her whiles she's sound asleep in your arms
  • Hearing her angelic laughter
  • Seeing her sound asleep in her car seat
  • Watching her splash in the tub
  • When she makes kissing sounds
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