Morrison Bartholomew Hogwallop

When James and I got married back in July 2010, we made a pact that we would wait at least a year before starting our own family. It took him a while to convince me that such a pact was for the best, but I finally agreed... I did have stipulations though, the first one being that I wanted a kitten.

I wanted a male cat. And it had to be orange.

We ventured to the nearest PetsMart in search of our new family member and found a huge cage full of small kittens. There was only one orange cat in the entire cage and the woman in charge of adoptions told me that it was a boy. I picked him up and he reeked of urine. You could see fleas crawling on his belly and he obviously had earmites, so James was not sold as quickly as I was. Despite his many medical issues, the kitten curled up against my chest and started purring. I was in love. We took him home in a little cardboard box that night after I dropped about 100 bucks on things that he didn't need.

After a bath and some earmite treatments, he was looking pretty snazzy. We struggled and struggled to choose a name for him and ended up naming him Huckleberry. (I know... trust me it didn't last long.) I told James a few days later he looked just like the Nine Lives cat, so we decided to change his name to Morris because we're super original. To be fair, his full name is Morrison Batholomew Hogwallop. (If you don't know why that's funny, please click here.) Everyone who met him could tell he was a happy kitty, and he quickly jumped from 2 to 7 pounds in a very short amount of time.

We consider Morris our first child, because we don't know any other animal on Earth as spoiled as he is. His personality is too awesome to express is a simple blog post, but I guess it would suffice to say that he thinks he is a dog. He loves his belly rubbed and adores playing fetch. One time I was in the shower and I saw a small shadow through the curtain. All of a sudden, Morris leaped through it and started prancing around the bottom of the tub. He loves water! When James tried to discipline him using a water bottle when he was little, he'd roll over on his back to play when the water hit him. Now, we give him a bath every few weeks and he doesn't mind a bit.

Even though James is technically head of our household (that's what I like to let him think anyway), Morris thinks he is large and in charge. He prances around with his tail in the air, refuses to eat table scraps, and looks at you as if to say "Why haven't you fed me yet?" on a regular basis. Maybe we should have named him Garfield instead.

The best part about Morris is that he isn't one of those freakish cats that hate to be touched and hiss every time someone gets near them. Instead, he loves to cuddle and sleep in between his two favorite people in the world.

So many people told me that I was going to have to get rid of him once I got pregnant with Ryan, but all I did was laugh and reply, "You don't just get rid of a member of your family." The only thing I was worried about was that Morris might get jealous of the new baby and all of the attention he was getting. Instead, he took to Ryan just as quickly as he takes to everyone else. He often runs up to the baby and pushes his nose against his cheek. I have noticed that when the baby cried during tummy time, Morris comes to the rescue and keeps Ryan company until I'm done cooking/vaccuuming/showering/studying etc. They are quickly becoming best friends.

Have you ever seen those bumper stickers on cars that say, "I heart my cat"? I used to think that the drivers of those cars were mostly lonely old women who weren't blessed with children, a husband, or even a dog. Over the last two years, however, my views have completely changed. I could totally see myself buying one of those bumper stickers.

In my opinion, the bumper sticker should read, "I heart my cuddle buddy/playmate/babysitter/son".

Same thing, right?