New Friends 

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As you read this, Baby Rangirl, I have no idea how much you’ll regret the names given to our new cats. But as of 4.75 years of age, you hate the name “Starboy”, which I’ve given the male kitten. You even ignore my name-giving abilities and call “Starboy” by his maiden name: Malibu. 

Well screw Malibu. That name is dead to the Ranmans. 

You got to keep the name “Sweetie”, given at the adoption center, for the female cat. 

I mean…Sweetie is the only cat that likes you!

And here they both are as kittens:

And here’s your brother making a mess:

That is all. 


Farewell Furball

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This is kinda weird, Baby Rangirl. I fully expected both you and your brother to get the references to our cat, A. J. (aka “Buju”) as you guys read this blog at a later age. But after putting the cat down last week, you’ll have to rely on pictures and inconsistent stories from your mother and I. 

Here A.J. was on the day before we had to put her down, barely eating at this point:

And then the hard part. Getting rid of Baby Ranboy’s toys he’s been growing out of along with anything cat-related:

The cat was an endearing little buggar: knocked everything down but was there when you’ve lost your job. We should be able to place things at eye level again. Plants, holiday decorations, iPhones, new furniture- all free to roam with no cat swiping at them. 

But we still have a 1-year-old monster walking around. He’s ready to pick up where the cat left off. 

From invading our space…

…to our fridge…

Well little A. J. , you’ll live on via the tattoos we just got. And both kids paid tribute by waking up last night multiple times to ensure Mommy Ranman and I received very little sleep. Similar to when you’d meow all night. Their own tattoo, if you will. But on my eyelids. 

Closet Antics

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Our revamped closet is like Grand Central Station with the kid and cat. You can’t keep either from getting in.



Guys, I Give Up


This cat is out of control- it’s as if she is daring me to kick her out of the house. How did it go from having half a child in the cat to having 2 whole kids with the birth of Baby Rangirl?


Mommy Ranman still has the baby bug which has her craving a sibling for Baby Rangirl. I say “nay” and “fie upon such rubbish!” (along with other 13th Century speak which makes the though of another child sound silly) to that. The rule should be No new kid until the cat grows out of her teenaged years…or croaks…or we no longer have to restrain her each morning so that she doesn’t act up:


My biggest fear with the arrival of a kid was the cat’s love affair of jumping into beds. She might hop into the crib and continue to be a douche in there. Instead, the cat has decided to do everything else but hop into the crib to annoy us- such as meow at the top of her lungs for no reason, knock iPads and iPhones onto the floor, break stuff, rip stuff, get into forbidden places……..I feel like her grand finale will be taking a dump in the crib.

Now Those Are Cat Stats I Like


Baby Rangirl, you’ll be find various references in my blog to a cat which you may not remember at all whilst you read this from the No-Boyfriends-Till-You’re-29 basement with limited access to the Internet and no access to the Facebooks of the year 2041. Where is this cat I speak of named A.J.? Well here’s a brief pic of the terror that knocked things off counters for sport:


That pic was taken within a month from when we brought you home. And already the cat was planning your demise. Well, cat-be-gone. After reading the stay below, I wonder what happened to her…


Want to Touch the Kitty


We are dealing with a few things this past week. Our baby started sweet potatoes in its puréedest of forms. She is still trying to get used to an early morning dose of puréed peas and green beans. Even early AM avocado seems to turn our little girl’s head away in anger. Just like her mother: doesn’t give a hoot about anything before 7AM unless it involves sleeping or the television which eventually leads to more sleeping.

Also we learned that this thing our girl has been doing is a sign of “flirting”: she’d see you, throw up a smile that would capture any evil dictator’s heart, and then turn her head away quickly while burying her face in her hands or your chest of the person carrying her. Not cool when a guy gets her to “flirt”. I go into immediate Dad-Mode and reach for the gun my wife won’t let us get.

Want the baby to laugh? Shake a box of orange juice in front of her. Not for too long though. She laughs for more than a 30 seconds you’ll give her the hiccups. But how could you not keep a baby laughing?? It’s the best sound next to sizzling bacon.

We also see how much she’s taken to A.J., the evil cat from a part of hell not even Satan visits because his sister-in-law Sarah Jessica Parker lives there and holds his brother captive…oh SJP is still with us? Then who the hell is in hell posing as her? our wonderful cat. Any meow will grab her attention or a sighting of a floating tail that falls within eyesight will warrant a lunge for it. This, coming after months of Baby Rangirl ignoring the cat. Now she’ll even gladly do tummy time if the cat is lying beside her. Hmm, I should get a hipster pic of that. In the interim, accept the pic below of Baby Rangirl reaching for a fistful of fur.


Father’s Day Eve


On this lazy of Saturdays, let us relax before my first Father’s Day. Let us pause to reflect before a day that I will finally pay more attention to me and less on what to get my own unshoppable father. Now I am the unstoppable unshoppable one. I hope our daughter is just lying there like a lummox because she already has a gift picked out. Although, what better gift than the gift of being startled on this holiest of holiday’s eve? Look at our baby’s leg. One loud yelp and she’ll send the cat flying across the room. Then it’s a Happy Father’s Day indeed.


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