"I am unto every person and situation, a kindly and tolerant cat..."

Bowing to public pressure and H's relentless whining, Lola is now attending group therapy to learn to play nicely with others. Perhaps I've been too indulgent. It's true that she's more interested in sleeping, but that hasn't stopped me from hoping that she will soon fit society's image of a good cat, at least in front of company.



Some of you will be happy to note that H and I got along splendidly during her visit. It helped that I had to work and that beer was available to keep her out of mischief. For those of you who wished for violence and drama, well, there's always Christmas.

Lola:1 H:0

Curses, foiled again! I wasn't even given a cushion.

Lolach's Law

Since the cops weren't much help and Lola has them in her back pocket (so to speak), looks like I'm going to have to be a bit more persistent. Since Captain Budge is currently my only "in" I decided to start there.



(I knew my personalized stationery would come in handy!

Lawful

I could have told you that involving the RCMP wouldn't work. If she were a feral or wild cat, then maybe. Or better yet, if she were human. Now, you’ll have a permanent file with words like “disturbed” and “urine”. You know that won’t end well.

What you probably didn’t know, having abandoned her at such a tender age, is that Lola's been a member of the Li'l Mountie Fan Club since 2000. She's made quite the impression!




She's even performed mascot-like duties during public appearances:



And now you've really made her angry. Don’t try and tranquilize her though; it’ll end badly too, trust me.

Legalities

As promised, I informed the police about Lola's recent activities, to protect myself and to hopefully get Lola and M in really deep shit. Unfortunately, it did not go as planned. This is the reply I received this morning.



Who knew that citizens of this country have so little protection?

Exposed!

I was sure that H exaggerated her so-called threat, but no, I'm mistaken. Damn. Last night, I came home to this sight:

Aw, Lola thinks she's people.

My naughty cat is putting her many talents to use by threatening H. While I approve of that in theory, I’m feeling a slight twinge of guilt that I didn’t make any effort to prevent it, that I let it go so far. I know that my cat can be intimidating, fluffiness and pink-pawed calling card notwithstanding. Then again, maybe H deserves a little scare for picking on a cat. And I’m also feeling pride: who knew she could work those paws? What dexterity! What careful attention to detail! How amazing that she didn’t get glue in her fur!

I don’t know how you’ll get yourself out of this one, H. May I suggest imported catnip?

The Threat

Something arrived in the mail today. And I'm freaked out.

Honestly, I have no -- or at least very few -- enemies. The only major drama in my life occurred during that feud with M when I was under siege by the media for some stupid comments I made about M. (Or was it for being a bitch? I forget now.)



I'd recognize that menacing pink paw print anywhere. Plus the faint odour of diet cat vittles that clings to the paper is a dead giveaway.

I'm not sure what to do about this. When she was little, I could have just locked her in the bathroom for 15 seconds and all would've been forgiven. But now, she's all grown up. And out. And I'm scared... What could this mean? If she can spell, and use scissors and glue, there's no telling what else Lolach the Destroyer might do.

Lola's Metamorphosis

Since most of my stuff is in M's basement (and after the diary incident I'm beginning to wonder if that was really the hot idea it once seemed to be), I don't have easy access to all the photographic evidence that I once did. But as luck would have it, I managed to find Before and After shots of Lolach The Destroyer, so you can see her impressive transformation.

I was just remembering how Lola and I used to fight when she was a kitten. She would claw at the drawstrings on my pyjama pants and scratch and bite my legs. Then I would get angry and lock her in the bathroom, only to let her out 15 seconds later because she'd start meowing pathetically. Then we'd do it again. M never took my side.

As a 1-lb kitten, I could cup Lola in my palm like a dinner roll.



As a 20-something-lb cat, picking her up is like hefting a sack of flour -- but that's only if you can get close enough.

Lolach: The Destroyer

Thanks, M, for sharing my private grade 9 diaries with the rest of the world. Luckily, I was not a very exciting kid, so I doubt they contain much worth reading. (Please, please, please.)

And now (until I get my hands on M's grade 8 grad photo) I'd like to introduce her cat, Lola.

M is truly devoted to her animals, which is especially impressive because her animals are rather "difficult," much like M herself. But Lola is the most difficult of them all. Perhaps the most difficult cat anywhere. You know that character from the Drew Carey show who is rather calorically blessed and has a mean mouth? Lola's a feline version of that, minus blue eyeshadow. In fact, I call her Lolach The Destroyer (say it in a Darth Vader voice for maximum effect).



As you can see, Lola is, well, really fat. Usually, people's first reaction to Lola is "Wow" and their eyes get really wide. She weighs over 20 lbs. Lola doesn't like to be picked up. She doesn't like to be snuggled. She doesn't like being looked at in the afternoon. She doesn't like being touched unless the moon is aligned a certain way. If you try, she hits you. And she hits really hard.

Further proof of M's devotion is her wall of worship. That's right. She actually cut out dozens of tiny photographs of Lola and made them into fridge magnets.



And the ultimate proof? M uses baby wipes to clean Lola's bum every day. It seems Lola's spherical shape makes it impossible for her to do the task herself. Wiping someone's bum is, like, the ultimate thing you can do for them. Ugh.

(NB: Before anyone blasts me for making fun of a "helpless" cat, know that I love Lola very much. In fact, I picked her out and lived with her for most of her first year of life. But c'mon. Look at the picture again. Also, Lola is one tough bitch. She'll get me for this.)


(Lola only tolerates her sister, Sadie the Bunny, when she's asleep.)