December 16th, 2013
As 2013 draws to a close, I know you all have one big, burning question in your mind: “Hey, what’s up with Wendi’s cats?” And because I don’t want you entering the new year unfulfilled, I’m going to tell you! Oh, come on, I’ve resisted the cat stuff all year long. Indulge me.
Cat #1 Virgil is doing very well as long as he has food, so let’s talk about the other one. Lola. We adopted her from the shelter almost two years ago and she is, in a word, a f-in handful. She’s been stuck in or behind almost everything in our house at least once, including the refrigerator, the fireplace, the washing machine, the recycling bin, the dishwasher and various dresser drawers and boots. Here are Lola and Virgil playing “The Wizard of Oz”:
“I haven’t been the same since that dresser fell on my sister.”
When she’s not exploring, Lola’s destroying. Paper, ribbon, shoes, shirts, fingers—it all gets chewed on. But on the plus side, she also uses her killer instinct to catch scorpions, millipedes, wasps and the other fun things that come inside your house when you live in Texas. Her body count is quite impressive. One day I thought she had a worm in her mouth, but quickly realized it was a gecko’s tail when I found the rest of the gecko’s body squirming on the bathroom floor. That was a fun morning. Here she is helping Sam with his math homework:
She can be very sweet and snuggly, but we still have to keep her out of our bedroom at night. Here’s why: out of nowhere, she’ll take a running leap onto the headboard, accompanied by a high-pitched strangling noise, then trot back and forth on it like she’s a shooting gallery duck until she finally BOOM! cannonballs like Chris Farley onto one of our heads. We’re considering sleeping in football helmets now. But seriously—did the shelter show her Three Stooges movies during her formative weeks or something? I don’t understand where this shit comes from.
Lola’s other favorite thing to do is sit up high and watch what’s going on:
Sometimes she lures Virgil up there, too, so they can compare whiskers and gossip about the slutty tabby who lives next door:
“Girl, she’s had like, 20 babies with, like 5 different baby daddies. Um hmm.”
And sometimes she gets a little too daring for her own good, causing everyone in the house to collectively scream, “LOLA! GET DOWN!” while she looks at us like, “Excuse me, but Lola do what Lola want and Lola want to pose.”
The latest Lola fun has to do with the tree frog Jack got for his birthday. Lola is obsessed with Mickey The Frog, as well as the container of crickets we have to feed to the frog, and she’s been trying whatever she can do to get into Jack’s room. Including, but not limited to, hiding in Jack’s laundry basket like a soiled shirt:
And pretending to get drunk and pass out in the wine room:
Seriously, Lola. That doesn’t even get me out of PTO meetings anymore. At least put on some booty shorts first so it looks realistic. Smear your lipstick a little. Yell, “Whas yo pwoblem, ossifer?!” Make me want to believe you if you really want to get your chompers on that tree frog. They don’t grow on…nope. You’re not going to make me say it, you tabby instigator. You’re not. I’m better than that.
All of that said, I think I’m now done with the feline stories for awhile. No more cats until next year, I promise. So from all of us, Lola, Virgil, Mickey the Frog and myself, we wish you a happy, prosperous and healthy 2014!
(But maybe cross your fingers for Mickey.)
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