First of all, I must say this: a cat is not a baby.
It is true that I fed her with a bottle, like a baby. And it is true that she thinks I am her mother, that when she kneads the blanket that covers me, she is mimicking the “milk-treading” of a feeding kitten. It is also true that, when everyone else I knew seemed to be pregnant and I was not, I used to fantasize about responding to their baby photos with pictures of Mackerel (my cat is called Mackerel, because I think it is funny to name a cat after a fish), just to see what people said.
