The Bambino cat is a mix between the hairless Sphynx and the Munchkin. It has short front legs and a long spine, making it’s shape quite similar to a dachshund. It’s highly social, extremely affectionate, and adjusts well to living with children and other animals. It’s hairlessness makes it incredibly high-maintenance. In 2005, a Bambino litter was officially introduced as an experimental breed by TICA. Also mine is named Blair and I have one of these cats.
I'm not kidding about the short leg thing. Look at that front paw!
The moment I was out of my pet-hating-parent’s house I wanted a creature of my own. I then married a pet-hating husband. Now, I get their disdain for the canine/feline companion. I understood the downside to pets. They are needy, they give nothing back, they cost money you otherwise would not spend, they shed, they bite, they whine, they poop, they lick, they smell, they break things, they don’t attend church, they are little hellions waiting to bombard your life and tear up your toilet paper. And also I wanted one. Badly. For three years Christian and I lived in apartments that didn’t allow pets. And for all of those three years I would beg Christian for a dachshund for Christmas. Even Facebook supported me. More than one person asked me on Dec 26th if I’d gotten the puppy they’d all had to watch me ask for in my statuses. But it was a half-hearted attempt. I knew that as long as we lived somewhere that didn't allow pets I would have to consider my impressive pillow collection as my fake pet to love.
Eventually Christian caved slightly and I managed to walk out of the local Mega Walmart with a grocery store Betta Fish in each hand. One was red and one was blue. Initially I was allowed one fish, but we happened to have two identical vases from our wedding registry and, what luck! we could put one fish in each! I named them Toni and Candace after the Women and Women First bookstore owners in Portlandia. Because everyone knows the beautiful beta fish are male and everyone also knows they are avid supporters of modern-day feminist literature. In reality I imagine Christian let me get the fish because he imagined they would live exactly one week and one half of one other week. I had chosen each fish from the very back of the shelf at Walmart because I was worried no one would see them and they would die. But live on they did! And what little personalities! Candace, the red fish, was a real fire cracker! He would bang against his fish bowl any time you put your face near him. Toni was the thespian of the pair. Often when he felt he was not being given enough attention, Toni would float limply at the top of the fish bowl. More often then not this would happen when we had guests over, he always loved an audience, and they would awkwardly ask us if the fish was alive. To which I would respond (perhaps only worrying our house-guests more) oh yes! That’s just his way of playing! At one point I had a girl from our neighborhood feed our fish while we were on vacation. I got a tearful message from her letting me know she had killed one of my fish. I texted back and asked her which fish was causing problems. When she responded that it was, in fact, blue fish Toni that was lifeless, I let her know that he wasn’t dead – just depressed and overreacting. Maybe I should have warned the 12 year old about the drama fish beforehand…
After two years our fish finally faded away. Only after I gifted them to my 5 year old sister as we were about to move. Although I’m still pretty sure she killed them, the funeral invitations she made were so well done that I imagine I will be able to forgive her at some point. And also maybe giving a child two year old grandpa Walmart beta fish wasn’t the tenderest of choices, but I certainly wasn’t going to be able to handle them dying! Glad she was there to take care of that for me.
Unfortunately, this new move meant I had no pets at all. And we brought so little with us I didn’t even have my pillow collection to dry my pet-less tears. I spent my free time in Iceland watching dog training videos, came to the grueling realization that a dachshund would not work with our work schedules, and so I went to the only other animal I had ever truly fancied-the hairless cat.
For months, all Christian heard about was hairless cat facts. I know them all. I would spend hours looking at photos online, watching youtube videos (I know every Cats 101 episode of every hairless cat by heart), and stalking/talking to American breeders. Because I had fallen in love with a cat that did not even exist in Iceland. What with the hairlessness and the freezing winters and all.
The day Christian and I decided to move to New York I got a gleam in my eye that he knew was not going away. I had found a fantastic breeder in the states who had a type of hairless cat known as a Bambino. Named after the word “baby” in Italian, Bambinos are known for their kitten-like stature. Being bred to stay kitten sized with short legs and a long body these cats were also known for looking like… dachshunds! And then there was no stopping me. Which sounds even more impressive when I tell you the part about how the cat was living in Arizona.
This didn’t set me back, I had a plan. First, I had a name. Blair Waldwarf. It was a play on the name Blair Waldorf, our favorite character from our favorite show, Gossip Girl. And when you find a cat that has a short shape which allows for name puns, you will overcome every obstacles in your way to get it. And that I did. My closest friend, Charity Jan Bowles, lives in Arizona. She was going to be visiting New York the week after we moved into the city. She was willing to bring me the cat! And it only took one call and a LOT of tears to convince her! This girl deserves the Nobel Peace Prize (or maybe just a nice BFF bracelet) after all she did for me. The night of her trip, Charity got my cat from the breeder, wrapped her in a diaper and baby onesie, and flew that little kid on the plane, on her lap, with a transfer in Georgia, all the way to New York. I now know the only way to repay that kindness is to bare her children, and as soon as science finds a way I will do just that. (Charity, for real, thanks girl. Also boyfriend Doug scored all the points that day. He must really love you to deal with you dealing with friends like me. All the love your way.)
Blair wearing her onesie from Auntie Charity and playing with her home made cat nip needle felted martini. Because it's what Blair Waldorf would want.
There were a few issues with my fabulous plan. One slight hiccup was the fact that I had purchased a cat before finding a home for the cat to live in. But, you know, details. We were lucky enough to find an apartment quickly and (although it had nothing but two suitcases, a foam mattress, and a 10ft plank of wood that we bought for Blair so she could climb up into the loft) we had a house for ourselves and our little rat-cat.
The next shout out goes to Christian. Because this cat was not something he needed. And he was okay with the fact that I did. It may have been the months of cat videos I watched, or that time I started crying when I got an email from the breeder letting me know the seal-point kitten was still available, but he was willing to accept that being married to me also meant having an exotic species as a pet to have and to hold. And since we got her, this derpy little feline has twisted her way so deep into his heart he carries her on his shoulders, sleeps with her tucked under his arm, and worries when she (stupidly/constantly) runs into doors/walls/chair legs. They’ve become pretty close while I’m at work. And it is a very huge deal to me that he loves me enough to keep her around. Particularly when her life expectancy is about a decade longer than my feminist fish.
These two are attached at the hip! (PUN ALWAYS INTENDED)
I realized how long this post is far too late in the writing game. There will be a part two, about actually living with this creature, some other day. Good night! Go take all your little pillow collections out on a walk for me!
