This is Lila. Lila is here to wish you a Happy New Year, but mostly Lila is just here because I have stories to tell you about her. Lila is a very special cat.
A very special cat that thinks she might be a dog, but she’s not sure. Sometimes she acts as if she’s in love with our dogs, male and female alike, but then again, she’s not really sure. When our dog Dakota was alive, she legitimately seemed to believe he was her hot doggy boyfriend. Now she just snuggles up close to Helena. Lila is not only confused about her species, but her sexuality. It’s okay, though. We seem to cater to seriously confused animals here. She fits right in with the following animals that we’ve rescued:
Play, the Maine Coon kitty who likes you until he thinks you have done him wrong, then he gets all ticked off and starts yelling and runs away. I guess it’s too much work to attack you after talking to the talk, so he just leaves. We’re never really sure what that’s all about.
Scamper, the kitty who came from the streets and is just a little slow. He is the nicest kitty in the world until he breathes on you. Then you have to hurriedly remove him from your lap and hold your breath until the smell passes so you don’t pass out from it. It is that bad, but there seems to be no medical reason for it.
Sophie, the starer. This cat will sit next to you and just stare at you for sometimes an hour. She doesn’t blink, she doesn’t leave, she doesn’t even move. She just stares. And yes, it’s completely creepy and horror movie worthy. We have yet to figure out why she does this, and has done it for the six years we’ve owned her. Another thing with Sophie is that she used to hate it when I sang, so when she stared, I would just sing operatically at her, but I would sing operatically bad on purpose just to get her to leave. She would run. Now she just stares at me like she...she...she likes it. This terrifies me more than her.
Pie, the cat who is also in love with our dog Helena. She will walk between Helena’s feet, and then yell bloody murder when Helena trips over her. Obviously this is all Helena’s fault and Pie can not be blamed. She does this to people, too. She’s confused.
Paramore, the cat who was rescued from a dumpster, literally. It’s not that she’s all that strange, it’s just that she likes car rides more than most dogs. And if you take her on one, there’s no need for a pet carrier. She will sit down in the back seat and take a nap and never move. She also likes to sleep in the rag bin, sleep silly, and pretend to be ironed. (With the iron off and not touching her, of course. Don’t hurt me PETA.)
Leo, the dog that I affectionately like to refer to as Zak Jr. This dog is a ninety five pound rottweiler and he cries about everything. Let me reiterate that, he cries about everything. Another nickname we have for him is Cry Baby Siss (as in Sissy) Pants. If he wants to sit where you’re sitting, he cries at you. If he wants to go to bed and you’re not ready, he cries. If he wants outside, he cries. If he wants inside, he cries. If he wants a cookie, he cries. If he’s just having a bad day, he cries.
Helena, the dog whose nose is considered a separate entity. Sometimes I forget that we own a dog named Helena, and only think of her as the nose that accosts and molests me. For Christmas, I did a completely dorky thing that proves I have far too much time on my hands, and created a naughty or nice list for the pets. (Hey, this isn’t about me. We all know I have an off color sense of humor.) I made sure to list Helena and her nose separately. She was nice. Her nose was naughty.
Brendon the fish. There’s not a lot to say about Brendon. He’s just an odd little fish. I named him after Brendon Urie from Panic at the Disco, because they both have very fruity personalities and act like they’re on crack with all their pep and energy. I do not regret that name. He lives up to it. He’s not pictured for fairly obvious reasons. He isn’t a limelight stealer. If he tries to steal it, he fears the cats will just...I can’t even say it. It’s too horrible.
In reality, all of our animals are weird. I could get into the other ones that we’ve rescued, but I think I would then be writing a novel and not a blog. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, weird things just flock to me. People, Craigslist users who can not be considered people, animals, pain in the ass inanimate objects that I can anthropomorphize. It all finds me.
But this blog isn’t about all the weird things our animals do. It’s about Lila. As I mentioned previously, Lila is a groupie of my new bed. This is a cat that never wanted to set foot in my room until I got my bed delivered, and then she was so there. There’s nothing she wants to do now except sit on my bed. When I open the door to my room, she’s there waiting. And I thought Sophie was the creepy one.
I’ve tried several things to help her to fall out of love with my bed, because I don’t mind sharing my bed, but she wants to take the whole thing for herself in a way that is only comparable to the creepy thing in Lord of the Rings that menacingly mumbles “my precious.” There’s several things my bed does, all of which are medically necessary for me. To clear that up, when I say my bed has a massage feature, I use it to break up my blood disorder, which then actually allows me to have less pain in my legs and not walk like a duck or a penguin, but like a real, real girl. I promise I don’t just want a massage. But I digress.
The first thing I tried when I realized that Lila was quickly having a tumultuous love affair with my bed, was moving the head and feet up and down, thinking it would scare her. This did less than nada. In fact, she was happy to be along for the ride. She didn’t even move. She just hung on the side of the bed as the head went up, and stuck there like glue.
Next, I tried to adjust the bed to be firmer or softer. She just adjusted herself right into the bed accordingly. A few times I got looks as if to signify that I were a witch for interrupting her comfort, but that was the extent of that.
Then, I tried the last trick I had. I turned on the massage. I thought for sure the noise alone would make her leave, and if it didn’t, the odd feeling she could not, as a cat, identify would send her fleeing. Folks, you know what it did? It sealed the love deal with the bed. I’ve created a monster in an attempt to get rid of her, and now I feel like I have to walk around the house and watch my back, because if she gets the chance, I don’t doubt she’d whack me for my bed.
Another hang up with Lila is that she loves purses. If you set a purse down somewhere, you better immediately conclude that you have just given your purse to Lila. It is hers now. You will not be getting it back until she is ready to give it back to you, and even then it is just on loan to you. The next time she sees that purse, she expects it to be on the floor for her to sit on, pronto.
And it’s not just purses, it’s shoes and slippers, too. The shoes don’t bother me as much, but if I take off my slippers for even a millisecond to do something ridiculous like, I don’t know, adjust said slipper, I’ve officially lost that slipper until she is ready to give it back. You think I’m kidding, don’t you? I assure you I am not.
Also, I think Paramore would like to launch a formal complaint about me via the internet, where she has witnesses. I, for some odd reason, have taken up calling her Dollcakes. It's probably because Dollcakes maker her think of this. This is understandable, so I've apologized to her, yet I can’t stop. It accidentally came out yesterday while she was “helping” me clean the cat room. Now I keep calling her that just because of the look she gives me. It’s like she knows I was in between calling her Dollface and Babycakes, and messed up but won’t admit it, so now I’m just making it work. I refuse to apologize. I am going on record as saying that.
If you all happen to hear about a cat killing its owner, you’ll know I’ve gone to the other side. I’ve got two candidates for murderers, and one me. I hope they don’t join forces...
Happy New Year, everyone! May it bring your hopes, dreams and every wish to life. I, myself, am determined to have a good talking to with my health and hope it concedes so that I can get out more and maybe even try this dating thing I hear so much about. But mostly I just want to finish my novel. It’s been two years in the making, a lot of frustration, falling in and out of love with characters, heartach,e and the little voice in my head telling me that I am too slow and I have to overcome all my illnesses even when they knock me down and say, “yeah right,” and finish it. I’ve never doubted what I’m writing, or myself, I just lost what writing meant to me. I had to stop writing my novel, go back and write online stories again...to write just for fun to find the meaning in it again. I am rejuvenated, and if you all see me stuck on my novel, yell at me. This is the year. I can feel it.
What do all of you want for the new year?
Another thing that is worth pointing out since it is a new year, is the old saying that dictates that time flies when you’re having fun. There’s something whomever paved the way for that saying forgot to mention. Times flies when you’re not having fun, too. So get out there and have fun. Make the most of life, and don’t let time win. If it tries to pass you by while you’re miserable, show it up, put on your best dancing shoes and that glittery dress everyone tells you is way over the top, and go have fun. Throw time back in its own face.
I will leave you all with a few words from the HGTV show House Hunters. The new home buyers gave us these words to live by. “Moving was like taking our furniture from one place and putting it in another.”
A very special cat that thinks she might be a dog, but she’s not sure. Sometimes she acts as if she’s in love with our dogs, male and female alike, but then again, she’s not really sure. When our dog Dakota was alive, she legitimately seemed to believe he was her hot doggy boyfriend. Now she just snuggles up close to Helena. Lila is not only confused about her species, but her sexuality. It’s okay, though. We seem to cater to seriously confused animals here. She fits right in with the following animals that we’ve rescued:Play, the Maine Coon kitty who likes you until he thinks you have done him wrong, then he gets all ticked off and starts yelling and runs away. I guess it’s too much work to attack you after talking to the talk, so he just leaves. We’re never really sure what that’s all about.
Scamper, the kitty who came from the streets and is just a little slow. He is the nicest kitty in the world until he breathes on you. Then you have to hurriedly remove him from your lap and hold your breath until the smell passes so you don’t pass out from it. It is that bad, but there seems to be no medical reason for it.
Sophie, the starer. This cat will sit next to you and just stare at you for sometimes an hour. She doesn’t blink, she doesn’t leave, she doesn’t even move. She just stares. And yes, it’s completely creepy and horror movie worthy. We have yet to figure out why she does this, and has done it for the six years we’ve owned her. Another thing with Sophie is that she used to hate it when I sang, so when she stared, I would just sing operatically at her, but I would sing operatically bad on purpose just to get her to leave. She would run. Now she just stares at me like she...she...she likes it. This terrifies me more than her.
Pie, the cat who is also in love with our dog Helena. She will walk between Helena’s feet, and then yell bloody murder when Helena trips over her. Obviously this is all Helena’s fault and Pie can not be blamed. She does this to people, too. She’s confused.
Paramore, the cat who was rescued from a dumpster, literally. It’s not that she’s all that strange, it’s just that she likes car rides more than most dogs. And if you take her on one, there’s no need for a pet carrier. She will sit down in the back seat and take a nap and never move. She also likes to sleep in the rag bin, sleep silly, and pretend to be ironed. (With the iron off and not touching her, of course. Don’t hurt me PETA.)
Leo, the dog that I affectionately like to refer to as Zak Jr. This dog is a ninety five pound rottweiler and he cries about everything. Let me reiterate that, he cries about everything. Another nickname we have for him is Cry Baby Siss (as in Sissy) Pants. If he wants to sit where you’re sitting, he cries at you. If he wants to go to bed and you’re not ready, he cries. If he wants outside, he cries. If he wants inside, he cries. If he wants a cookie, he cries. If he’s just having a bad day, he cries.
Helena, the dog whose nose is considered a separate entity. Sometimes I forget that we own a dog named Helena, and only think of her as the nose that accosts and molests me. For Christmas, I did a completely dorky thing that proves I have far too much time on my hands, and created a naughty or nice list for the pets. (Hey, this isn’t about me. We all know I have an off color sense of humor.) I made sure to list Helena and her nose separately. She was nice. Her nose was naughty.
Brendon the fish. There’s not a lot to say about Brendon. He’s just an odd little fish. I named him after Brendon Urie from Panic at the Disco, because they both have very fruity personalities and act like they’re on crack with all their pep and energy. I do not regret that name. He lives up to it. He’s not pictured for fairly obvious reasons. He isn’t a limelight stealer. If he tries to steal it, he fears the cats will just...I can’t even say it. It’s too horrible.In reality, all of our animals are weird. I could get into the other ones that we’ve rescued, but I think I would then be writing a novel and not a blog. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, weird things just flock to me. People, Craigslist users who can not be considered people, animals, pain in the ass inanimate objects that I can anthropomorphize. It all finds me.
But this blog isn’t about all the weird things our animals do. It’s about Lila. As I mentioned previously, Lila is a groupie of my new bed. This is a cat that never wanted to set foot in my room until I got my bed delivered, and then she was so there. There’s nothing she wants to do now except sit on my bed. When I open the door to my room, she’s there waiting. And I thought Sophie was the creepy one.
I’ve tried several things to help her to fall out of love with my bed, because I don’t mind sharing my bed, but she wants to take the whole thing for herself in a way that is only comparable to the creepy thing in Lord of the Rings that menacingly mumbles “my precious.” There’s several things my bed does, all of which are medically necessary for me. To clear that up, when I say my bed has a massage feature, I use it to break up my blood disorder, which then actually allows me to have less pain in my legs and not walk like a duck or a penguin, but like a real, real girl. I promise I don’t just want a massage. But I digress.
The first thing I tried when I realized that Lila was quickly having a tumultuous love affair with my bed, was moving the head and feet up and down, thinking it would scare her. This did less than nada. In fact, she was happy to be along for the ride. She didn’t even move. She just hung on the side of the bed as the head went up, and stuck there like glue.
Next, I tried to adjust the bed to be firmer or softer. She just adjusted herself right into the bed accordingly. A few times I got looks as if to signify that I were a witch for interrupting her comfort, but that was the extent of that.
Then, I tried the last trick I had. I turned on the massage. I thought for sure the noise alone would make her leave, and if it didn’t, the odd feeling she could not, as a cat, identify would send her fleeing. Folks, you know what it did? It sealed the love deal with the bed. I’ve created a monster in an attempt to get rid of her, and now I feel like I have to walk around the house and watch my back, because if she gets the chance, I don’t doubt she’d whack me for my bed.
Another hang up with Lila is that she loves purses. If you set a purse down somewhere, you better immediately conclude that you have just given your purse to Lila. It is hers now. You will not be getting it back until she is ready to give it back to you, and even then it is just on loan to you. The next time she sees that purse, she expects it to be on the floor for her to sit on, pronto.
And it’s not just purses, it’s shoes and slippers, too. The shoes don’t bother me as much, but if I take off my slippers for even a millisecond to do something ridiculous like, I don’t know, adjust said slipper, I’ve officially lost that slipper until she is ready to give it back. You think I’m kidding, don’t you? I assure you I am not.
Also, I think Paramore would like to launch a formal complaint about me via the internet, where she has witnesses. I, for some odd reason, have taken up calling her Dollcakes. It's probably because Dollcakes maker her think of this. This is understandable, so I've apologized to her, yet I can’t stop. It accidentally came out yesterday while she was “helping” me clean the cat room. Now I keep calling her that just because of the look she gives me. It’s like she knows I was in between calling her Dollface and Babycakes, and messed up but won’t admit it, so now I’m just making it work. I refuse to apologize. I am going on record as saying that.If you all happen to hear about a cat killing its owner, you’ll know I’ve gone to the other side. I’ve got two candidates for murderers, and one me. I hope they don’t join forces...
Happy New Year, everyone! May it bring your hopes, dreams and every wish to life. I, myself, am determined to have a good talking to with my health and hope it concedes so that I can get out more and maybe even try this dating thing I hear so much about. But mostly I just want to finish my novel. It’s been two years in the making, a lot of frustration, falling in and out of love with characters, heartach,e and the little voice in my head telling me that I am too slow and I have to overcome all my illnesses even when they knock me down and say, “yeah right,” and finish it. I’ve never doubted what I’m writing, or myself, I just lost what writing meant to me. I had to stop writing my novel, go back and write online stories again...to write just for fun to find the meaning in it again. I am rejuvenated, and if you all see me stuck on my novel, yell at me. This is the year. I can feel it.
What do all of you want for the new year?
Another thing that is worth pointing out since it is a new year, is the old saying that dictates that time flies when you’re having fun. There’s something whomever paved the way for that saying forgot to mention. Times flies when you’re not having fun, too. So get out there and have fun. Make the most of life, and don’t let time win. If it tries to pass you by while you’re miserable, show it up, put on your best dancing shoes and that glittery dress everyone tells you is way over the top, and go have fun. Throw time back in its own face.
I will leave you all with a few words from the HGTV show House Hunters. The new home buyers gave us these words to live by. “Moving was like taking our furniture from one place and putting it in another.”
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1 comment:
HI. I owe you the biggest apology. What a failure I am! I knew I was not cut out for this blogging business, but not making it on to yours is just... unforgivable! :)
Your pets are absolutely adorable (at least, I imagine you are). I can't believe you have so many! I only have one cat... unless his flees count, in which case I believe I have lost count!
You mentioned Brendon Urie... Bden<3. I love his antics.
I shall tell you what I want for the new year--YOUR NOVEL IN MY HANDS, SIGNED!
:3
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