I don't remember how Lily got here. I honestly don't. It seems like she's just always been here and always been a pain in my....... Well, you get the picture.
Lily is a cat that my son brought into the house. I am a confirmed dog lover. And for those of you that know me well, you know that when an animal comes to my house they usually stay. But then in a perfect world any animals that are in my house would be only the ones that I bring home...not my son. Not so in this case.
I vaguely remember some kind of "homeless kitty" story as being a part of Lily's resume. But the details are all fuzzy now. She's been here long enough for me to realize that she definitely falsified some points on her resume. And strangely enough that resume may have been the first item fed into the paper shredder when I got it. But I'm sure that was purely by accident, right?
Now being the animal lover that I am, you'd be surprised to know that not a day goes by that I don't tell Lily what an ugly bag of mostly hair she is. Her response? Roll on the floor (like she thinks she's cute or something) and show me her very large expanse of white belly hair. Stupid cat. And doesn't she just love to have her big fat belly rubbed! Which I do sometimes...all the while telling her she's fat and has no right to act like she's a cute little thing. I never met a cat that likes her belly rubbed like that before. I think it's just a pathetic attempt to act like a dog.
She'll often run to the door to see who just came in too. Another dog trait that she's copying. I've told her many times if she can learn to bark we might have a shot at a real relationship. So far, she's ignored my suggestion.
Now you may be asking yourself why don't I like this cat? She sounds cute so far doesn't she? Well that's because you haven't had her shoot across the room like her ass is on fire, cutting right in front of you as you're walking. And why is she racing from one room to another? Why to stop short and stare into space of course! And then there's the fun of having her mis-judge her speed and end up crashing into your leg, then jump sideways and look at you like you kicked her on purpose! But that's nothing compared to the continual yowling she does when Justin leaves the house or goes into his room without her. She sits near the door and yowls non-stop until someone opens the door for her or someone else (yes, me!) yells at her to shut the hell up! And lets not forget that anyone and every ones lap is her private domain. As soon as you sit down she's got your lap staked out and you will not leave here without her hair on you...like it or not.
But I've got her all figured out. This is really her way of getting even with me for not letting her up on the furniture. She feels that technically she's on someones lap...not the furniture. She's all about being technical that one. She should be on a kitty debate team.
I have to admit that Lily is good at catching mice. However she's not always so good at killing the mice she catches and that explains the mouse I now having living in a little house in the "protected space" better known as my upstairs bathroom. I've lost count of the number of baby mice I've taken away from her and set free in the field across the street. In my book that's a bad kitty. Kill them somewhere away from me or leave them alone. I'm a dog person I tell you!
So by now it shouldn't come as any surprise to you that Lily refers to me as "Mean Lady". This name came into being when she had first arrived and I spent the following 6 months spraying her with water and yelling LILY (at the top of my lungs) every time I caught her up on the counter; the table; the furniture and the stove. She still gets up on places she doesn't belong but she's a little smarter about it now. She never lets me actually SEE her do it now. But I'm no dummy. I can hear those fat cat feet hit the floor when she jumps down!
Justin tried to start referring to me as Lily's grandma but that will never fly. You're supposed to love your grand children...even the furry ones. And I don't like Lily. She's a cat; she's a fat cat; she's a fat cat that yowls and climbs up on stuff she doesn't belong on, leaving her hair all over everything. And she's certainly no dog!
But we do have an understanding of sorts. I let Lily live here, doing stuff she knows she not supposed to do, racing into my legs, yowling for attention and leaving hair on every one and in turn she promises to try to learn to be more like a dog. It's a work in progress.
