Let me tell you 'bout cats in cribs

Some idiots (http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/life/main/6245009.html) are saying that cats in cribs are a bad idea. Dangerous, even. My husband wisely says, some cats are dangerous. I know of one woman who had to put her cat down because it was defecating in the baby's crib - with the baby in it.

Let me tell you about cats and cribs. My experience is unusual.

My mother was bipolar. She self-medicated by drinking. It was a very bad combination, especially combined with some terrible personal tragedies. She was unable to cope.

She was unable to mother. One of my earliest memories, crying and crying in my crib. Filthy diaper. Hungry. Waiting. Watching the sun climb across the wall, waiting and waiting, crying, snotty nose, miserable and so alone. A prisoner, in my crib.

Waiting to hear the door open, and someone's home. Someone who can love me and care for me. I remember trembling with every fiber of my being, waiting to hear that door.

I have another memory. Crying and miserable in my crib. I felt so forsaken. I just trembled with misery. And then... "Nanny".

My parents adopted Nanny when I was about a year and a half old. I never learned to walk until I was almost 2, but after we got Nanny I had motivation. One of the happiest memories of my early life is chasing her across the floor, screeching her name. Trip, splat, get up, chase cat! Oh, joy.

This particular time, Nanny came into my room, saw I was miserable, and jumped into my crib. She nosed up against me, allowing me to maul her, and began cleaning herself. I could feel the rumble of her purr. It was so soothing. Lick, lick, purr, purrrrr.

I remember watching her clean herself and feeling her purr down to my bones. The sun was warm on my skin, and I drifted off to sleep feeling very loved.

On particularly bad days, when my mother was insensitate for some reason or another, Nanny would come and visit. Sometimes she'd get into my crib, sometimes she'd climb on something nearby where I could see her.

Thank God for cats in cribs. I owe all cats a debt of gratitude I can never repay. That cat was a better mother than my own.

My parents eventually divorced. Nanny, a casualty of a cat-hating father, was "rehomed". My sister tells me she was happy.

My Dad still dislikes cats. I have 2. My mother had a very difficult life, but she gave me the gift of lithium. I was able to discover that lithium worked for her when she was sober. I don't drink, lithium is a fantastic drug for me.

I had a happy ending. Thanks to that cat in my crib.

I don't doubt that some cats and infants are a terrible combination, but I'd have no problem "allowing" either of my cats to climb into a crib containing my infant. I'm sure they'd take good care of my baby.