La La La La-lola

I have a cat named Lola, and we have been together for almost 3 years. She has moved with me three times, a bicoastal cat if you will. In case you are wondering, she is also insane.

Lola was found homeless, pregnant, and emaciated at what my vet believes was about four months old. None of her kittens survived, but she went on to become a somewhat healthier cat. She won my heart at an adoption fair, as quietly sidled up to me and nudged her way into my lap.  We lived together for about three months of bliss.

Then, my boyfriend moved in. Some animals feel threatened by the introduction of another pet – apparently Lola thought Mr. MarsIAm was a really big cat. She did what any territorial cat would do: she peed on the bed. She didn’t just pee on it any old time – no, of course not. She would wait until I had already gotten up and left for work, and then would pee on my side of the bed, so Mr. M would wake up to a fresh batch of pee next to him on the bed.

That’s not all. She also peed on his futon. I became familiar with Urine-off, which supposedly removes the urine crystals so that the cat doesn’t pee in the same place again. We spent weeks conditioning, not allowing her into the room until she had used the litter box. We praised her every time she peed in the litter box. We showed her how much we loved her, even though we had to shut her out of the bedroom at night. How did she cope? Plaintive meowing, followed by lying on her side so that she could shove two paws under the door. She was that desperate to be in the room.

She also insisted on sitting on my lap every second that I was sitting, biting exposed skin when I refused to let her sit (ankles beware, and tummy too if your shirt rides up). She would wander the halls and cry for no apparent reason. She would also lick the armpits of the shirts I had just worn if I didn’t shut my laundry away. Our efforts, however, had minimal impact. As soon as that door was accidentally left open, there was pee. I called my vet in tears and she kindly suggested what I refer to as kitty prozac.

God bless kitty prozac. Lola does not pee on anything anymore, except her litter which is a GREAT PLACE to pee. Lola will never be sane – many of aforementioned problems exist to this day, albeit in a lesser form. However, Lola and I are still able to enjoy our time together in the following ways.  These are her favorite activities which include me:

  1. Shoving her face under my hand (Hello!  I’m right here!  Get busy!)
  2. Standing on the printer while I wait for my documents to come out.
  3. Sleeping under the covers with me when it’s cold.
  4. Perching on top of my bookcase, staring at me confusedly while I type.
  5. Chasing the feather toy.
  6. Meowing sadly at her bowl as if I am starving her (nice try, fat cat).
  7. Dragging the feather toy into the room, dropping it on the floor, and staring me in the eyes.
  8. Watching me carefully every time I cook, on the off chance I might be opening a can of tuna. When I drain the can, I let her drink the water.
  9. Eating her kitty prozac, disguised inside a Greenies Pill Pocket, which she believes is a delicious treat with a funny tasting middle.
  10. Sitting in my lap when I read dooce.

Lola – thanks for being a pal.



  1. theannalog

    My parents’ cat finally saw through the pill pockets. Now he has to be pilled using “the medieval method” — toss it down his throat, then squeeze his little jaws shut until he swallows. Works about 66% of the time.

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