Etienne

Have you met our friend Etienne? If you have, you probably have the scar to prove it. My Etienne (ett-tee-NNN), who sprang from humble beginnings (runt kitty from a rented prefab on Mahan St.) is just one of those cats. The kind that are born violent. Unlike the shy and reclusive Oktobriana, and the outrageously outgoing Clarence (RIP), Etienne is just, well, different.

As a young kitty, Etienne enjoyed biting photographs and mini-blinds; climbing the wall in the kitchen doorway and sliding down, ruining the paint; attacking visitors' ankles; and scratching the s%*! out of my arms. Along with his cohort Clarence, many a rug got ruined and many vet visits ended with scowls from the staff. Etienne looks like an angel, with his inviting "pet me" gaze; but like many men I've known, he'll rip you to shreds the first chance he gets.

Naturally, I worried how the Kitten Boy and Baby Girl would interact. I registered for and received the "crib tent", a protective barrier designed to keep cats out of cribs. We banned him from the sectional. We never leave the cat and the baby alone together. Imagine my surprise when I realized that jealous, spoiled, cranky, entitled Etienne showed a strange protectiveness toward the baby. When she cries, he rushes (slowly, due to the burden of his cat flesh) to her side. If I'm not quick enough, he'll bat my legs as if to say, "Mom, you better hustle." He sniffs Hattie as opposed to murdering her. So far, I'm very relieved.

I couldn't resist recording one of those moments today.