When I’m away at college, I miss my darling little kitten-cat Jo Jo baby so much. Though she didn’t immediately remember me when I moved back home, she has just started to get comfortable with my lingering presence in her house.
I get to give her sweet kitten kisses, rub her little white belly, play with her adorable white paws, and scoop her up for cuddles that she wishes were shorter. I’ll flick around tiny paper balls for her to chase, and strategically leave her lion toy around the house in places that encourage silliness. I never have so much fun interacting with my younger brother as I do playing with our cat (and I’m sure he feels the same).
I know that my love for this little girl is ridiculous.
I expect others to make cat-lady jokes at my expense.
And of course, I’ve never stopped referring to her as “My Lil’ Baby Jo” when I bring up her presence.
It just so happens that the happiness that I feel when expressing my love and enjoying the company of such a sweet little critter is worth the odd stares and questioning looks every time.