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!
Love,
Mommy
Glorious picture via Mr. Sans Pantaloons
Everything you promised, and more. Especially the butt scooting.
Be sure to paste this into her baby book. If she hasn’t eaten the paste.
Happy birthday/Escape from Euthanasia to your little girl!
Aww, happy birthday, sweet little darling ball of fur and occasional fury. Let’s hope you and Trixie never combine forces.
Suddenly, my sock chewing, toilet water drinking, ass-then-your-face licking dog seems like a prize. Woof!
Happy Birthday to your furry kid.
I’m sure the IRS would be very receptive to ” my cat ate my tax return” to excusing you from filing for 2014.
Oh sweet fur baby – Happy Birthday and here’s to many more!!
For the record, I agree that dishwasher rinse cycles can be terrifying.
Namaste, Birthday Girl.
Now this is an open letter that had to be written. I will share it w/ my cat, who will sit in fat judgment.
I think I wiped away a few tears as I read this. What a beautiful relationship is the mother/incontinent claw baby.
Ah, this reminds me of when I brought my kitty home from the shelter and she took one look at the dogs and grabbed the first thing she could find, my face, and hung from it until I could pick the claws out of my skin one by one.
I just love those little, itchy, hurty welts you get when they break our skin.
Memories.
It’s wonderful you’ll have this chronicle to share with her someday when she can read! And so brave of you to publish this despite the fact that someday prospective employers will Google her and she won’t be able to get a job.
Happy birthday, Lola, may you never change. And, if my cats are anything to go by, you won’t.
I can feel the love…
Happy 2nd year of survival, Wendi. She’s a charmer.
You’ve put all other cat owners who never bothered to write a post about their sweet fur baby’s birthday to shame. TO SHAME. Also, you sound like you would like more. Would you like 2 more cats? Please?
Oh, how we love our fur babies (myself included). Happy-ish birthday, sweet-ish Lola.
I’m not even a cat person (allergic) and I still appreciated this.
I hope Lola appreciates what kind of mother she has, but who are we kidding…children never really get it until they have babies of their own. Speaking of, maybe one day you will be a GRANDMA to Lola’s sweet angels.
Lola reminds me of my Chevelle. She’s a vomiting bag of cement, too. Question, is she wearing a cat toupee?
Cheers Wendi. Thank you very much for all the promotion!
The first paragraph is perfect because most female cats run house of people who were born in hospitals.
Happy day of her birth, our Monki turns 4 next month.