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Socks by Beverly Cleary (1973) was mentioned lovingly in a couple recent books I read. Although the book is as old as I am, I haven't read much Beverly Cleary. I decided the references were a sign from the universe that I should rectify this by at least reading Socks.
Socks is a tabby striped kitten. The girl who is selling him and his siblings wants to keep him and does everything she can think of to distract people from picking him. It doesn't work and he's taken home by Mr. and Mrs. Bricker, newlyweds.
If the pre-Bricker era is the first act of the novel, the two others are Socks as the only "baby" in the house, and the birth of Charles William.
Like Charles William, I was the second "baby" in the house, with a black house panther, Maxwell Smart, being the first. He was a year older than me and grew to adulthood just as I entered his life. For Socks, the human baby means leftover formula and weight gain from it. It also means less lap time and being forced to sleep in the laundry room again.
There's a gentle humor about this novel. While not told from strictly Sock's point of view, Cleary deftly conveys what he's thinking and feeling. The ending, too, shows how human babies can come to be a pet's best ally, to hilarious and disastrous results for the human adults in the household.