Dear Bella (or buzz as you’re now known, thanks to the toddler terror you mildly tolerate)
I’m sorry that we don’t have as much time for you, that you hear ”Oh, Bella!” each time you wrap yourselves around our feet, instead of ”ahh, Bella”.
I’m sorry that one day your life changed just as much as ours did. I remember your upset at seeing our new baby for the first time, as if he were another cat muscling in on your territory. Then only a few months later another baby would soon be on the way, I know, what a pair of plonkers, you must have thought.
I’m sorry that babies learn to crawl, meaning you could no longer rest peacefully on the floor. I’m sorry they also learn to walk, and grab you when you find a higher surface to lay on (remember, under no circumstances, are you allowed on the worktop).
I know you have a full fear of our toddler, so much so that you won’t allow him to prove he’s a gentle soul now. I know you trust the baby, but you shouldn’t. I remember the affection you have always shown her, the tolerance you’ve always had with her. And I’m sorry she’s not only walking, but running to you, not for loves, but for grabs and bites. I see it in you, that you’re excited to see her, until you realise those are taunting chuckles, not lovable laughter. Just remember, you can run, hide and rest elsewhere, I wish I could run with you sometimes.
I miss our daily cuddles too, our lounges and snoozes on the sofa. I’m sorry this is now a rarity. Just think of me while you’re asleep on the bed and I’m wide awake downstairs being peed on by a toddler who just won’t keep his clothes on. You’re definitely the winner there.
It may seem like you’re not as important since we’ve burdened your life with two small, grabby children. But you are. When we were choosing our new home, your needs came into discussion every time. We needed a safe location not just for our children, but for you too. So you could finally go outside, smell the flowers and chase those bastard moths that have been taunting you outside the window for years (because you used to be an indoor cat). You even have your own room, well, large cupboard. It’s your sanctuary, those small people aren’t allowed to venture in there, mostly because they’re attracted to your cat biscuits, I’m sorry about that too.
Somehow lately you’ve managed to escape your nightly confinement to the kitchen and are in our room again. In between night feedings, babies crying and Mr Firstooth snoring, what more could a purring cat be, that executes regular attacks on our feet. It’s nothing.
Thank you for being such a patient and understanding cat.