I have a true cat story to share.
About six years ago I had two gorgeous black cats - the male was named Butch and the little female I named E.B. (I named her after my late aunt's cat, E.B. Murphy). The vets kept telling me to get Butch fixed, because although they were brother and sister, Butch could still "knock her up." So I finally took Butch to get fixed, but alas ... by then E.B. was already pregnant (the slut).
As E.B. got closer and closer to "the big day" I started getting nervous. She was really young and I wasn't sure how she would react to having babies for the first time. The vet told me I should build her a box with a towel hung over the opening, a nice quiet, secluded spot to have her kitties.
Every night I came home from work I would check to see if she was in the box. Finally, one night when I came home, I saw her slip inside the box and I sat down and waited. It seemed like forever, and then suddenly she shot out of the opening and started running around the room, trailing something small, black, and wet behind her.
I realized it was one of the babies and so I quick laid down on the floor and circled my arms around her. She was staring at me all wide-eyed and breathing hard. I talked softly to her, telling her it was ok, she was fine, it was just her baby. Then I pretended like I was licking the baby and I told her, "Wash the baby. Wash the baby." She looked at me with those big eyes and then she started to wash her baby. It was totally amazing.
I picked the baby up and carried it back to the box, and she followed close behind as I stuck the baby back inside. She went into the box and had the rest of the babies (six in all) all by herself.
I went into the bathroom after that and as I was washing the blood off my hands I felt just like a real father, all proud and happy. The only thing missing were the cigars.