Dear Darling Lola,
Today is your 2nd birthday! I can’t believe it’s been two years since you were born in an unknown location that was most likely an alley or overgrown field to an unwed mother, then anonymously dropped off at the Humane Society’s back door. Time has surely flown, my sweet little one!
In fact, it seems like just yesterday when we pointed to your cage and said, “Can we see that kitten? The one clinging to the metal wire like Spiderman on hallucinogenics?” You don’t remember that, sweetie, but it was a big moment for us all. Especially Timothy, the mustachioed shelter volunteer. Trust me, you should have seen his face when he picked you up and you let loose with explosive feline diarrhea all over his hemp jacket! Oh, did we laugh and laugh! We knew how special and incontinent you were right then and there, baby girl.
Mommy wants to tell you how much you’ve grown this past year, Lola. You’re no longer the tiny kitten we brought home in a cardboard box that you soaked with your urine as soon as we pulled out of the parking lot. No, now you’ve grown big enough to take up three-quarters of a Cal King-sized mattress. It’s true! Your daddy and I chuckle delightedly each morning at 3 a.m. when we have to arrange ourselves around your snoring, cement-like body that bites like a motherfucker if touched. You are a dreamer, Princess!
Lola, I watch you watch the world with your big green eyes.
I know you’re thinking, “What household object can I chew on and then vomit up on the carpet?” or “Hey, is that a bug? Let me put it in my mouth and decide. Then I’ll vomit it up on the carpet.” But I wonder—what else is going through your little cat head? Rainbows? Unicorns? More plans to scoot across the carpet in my office on your butt like a classless dog? Unlike every other cat on the planet, I think you must dream in color, my Angel. Your inner life is just too vivid for black and white! You are a warrior! Rwor!
Lola, with all my heart, I say to you that it is a true privilege to be your Mommy. I wear the scratches and bite marks and allergic reactions you’ve given me with such pride and joy. And I am honored that it was my back you chose to attach your claws to that time you got scared of the dishwasher rinse cycle. You don’t remember it, but I screamed so loudly the neighbors called the fire department! (A charge I’m still disputing with city officials, FYI.) And of course, I’m always so, so proud to show off the various parts of my expensive clothing items that you’ve gnawed on. Frayed cashmere sweaters are your trademark, girl! LOL.
Precious cherub, you won’t read this until you’re older, or well, ever because you’re a cat, but I just want to say Happy Birthday, sweetheart! I love you more than OH MY GOD WILL YOU STOP BITING MY TOE I ever thought possible and JESUS H CHRIST DID YOU JUST EAT OUR TAX RETURN I can’t wait to see how much you grow this year FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY IS MY VISA CARD IN THE LITTER BOX my sweet angel baby!
Glorious picture via Mr. Sans Pantaloons