When my niece, Devin, was two, our Grandma had a cat. Devin loved the cat, who she called “kee-tee.” Whenever she caught a glimpse of the poor old thing, she would squeal, laugh, shake all over, and run towards him. He typically had enough warning to get under the couch and out of her reach. She would then stoop down and peer at him from in front of the couch.
If you mention that cat now, Devin says, “He loved me.” Uh, sure he did.
Grace is already enamored with our four cats, and I'm just waiting for the kee-tee calling to begin. They are (so far) outsmarting her, but their peaceful days are numbered. If one of them walks past, just out of her reach, she wiggles and grins and stretches her chubby fingers as far as they'll go. When she's really lucky, she makes contact.
I'm sure, in ten years, Grace will say “Those cats loved me.”
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