We have two kitties, who are brothers although they look nothing alike. Their momma apparently got around with several different toms and thus they have at least two daddies. The Bad One earned this name many times over but is still much adored in the house because he loves snuggling with us. He also tolerates being held (and has since he was a kitten). I usually pick up him and hold him up against my shoulder and then shift him into my arms like a baby. I start cooing at him that he’s my kitty baby (kit-ty bay-be) and that’s his cue to begin squirming to be put down.
My parents were in town for Christmas and I was holding the Bad One like my kitty baby. My mom held out her arms in the universal sign for “can I hold him?” and I felt this instant sadness that all I could give her was a cat, not a real baby. I hope someday I can give her a real baby to hold in her arms.