What Lola Wants... an excerpt from That Damn Dog

I really didn't want a cat, really didn't even want a pet! However sometimes we have to graciously accept what we are given, expressly when it turns out that the unexpected gift was something we needed.

While renting an attic that had been converted to an apartment on a working farm, I became acquainted with a very sweet cat that belonged to the neighbors, she would come and visit and beg for attention. She didn't meow, instead being the character she is, she would make a little chirp.

She loved to roll in the dirt, she loved to have her belly rubbed and she loved my daughter! She had an extreme disdain for dogs, seemed to be indifferent to other cats and seemed fearful of large birds.

As we got to know her, we discovered some deep scars on her hips and found out from the neighbors that she just kind of moved in on them. Another neighbor said she belonged to her, but she kept running away and as she was thriving she decided to let her be. I named her Kitterina Twit or Twit, mostly because of her love for rolling in the dirt and I got rather used to her running to greet me when I got home. Each time she would run up, flop over right in front of me, roll in the dirt and lay on her back for a belly rub.

Over that first summer and fall, Twit and my daughter spent many happy, reflective hours on the farm, watching the cows and the clouds, climbing the hay stacks and napping in the shade. Their bond was strengthening and I had to admit, I had grown quiet fond of her too. Fond enough of her that I was saddened, that winter, when the neighbors told me they were moving, My daughter and I shared some tears as we said goodbye to the sweet black kitty that won our hearts.

A few days after the neighbors moved, I pulled up at home, thirty degrees below zero and here comes Twit, running and chirping, so glad to see me and she, true to form, flopped down in front of me, rolled around and waited for her belly rug. I sent a text to the former neighbor and received this response "my new landlord only allows two cats, can't take her with me". Seriously? What is wrong with people?

I grabbed Twit and put her in the garage, a quick trip to the local store for a litter pan, some sand and some food and back home. I did not want to keep her, but I wasn't going to let that sweetie freeze. In the apartment she came and she immediately settled in for the night, crawling up in my lap, sucking on a fuzzy blanket and making biscuits, while purring with both motors, however when I left for work the next day, she ran out the door. This became a ritual until the weather warmed a bit, then she wouldn't even come in, I left food out for her and soon found out that the farmhands were feeding her too, it seemed she wanted to be a barn cat.

We settled in to our new routine, she would come running, roll, get her belly rub and some food. When my daughter visited, she would come indoors for play and cuddles, but other than that unless the weather was too bad, she stayed outside.

That spring, I had to make an emergency trip to my family home and was gone for a week. I knew with the farmhand feeding her she would be okay. On my return, as soon as I pulled in the driveway, I started looking for her, but no Twit. I got out of the car and called and called her, still no Twit. My heart was pounding, had she gotten hit, had she left to find a new home? I went in and changed into muck boots and started to walk around the farm, calling her name. As I got close to the haystacks, I heard a chirp and finally saw her coming towards, me... Limping, limping bad, but as she got close, over on her side, a roll in the dirt and begging for her belly rub. I carried back to my house, filled her food bowl and just talked to her. When she had eaten, I opened the door to invite her in, but she just limped away.

For the next week, it seemed, although she was losing weight, she was getting better, she still limped but it was not as pronounced and we settled back into our routine. Chirps, rolling in the dirt, belly rubs and off she would go. Until that weekend, on Saturday, I woke up and discovered that while I was gone, my apartment had become overrun with mice and my daughter came running in to say that Twit was in the haystack and could not move!

Yes, struggling to start my business, keep my rent paid and keep myself fed, broke as I was, I paid for an emergency vet bill. Now, country vets tend to be fairly practical, he did x-ray her hips, he did tell me that she her right hip was dislocated and he told me that we could spend thousands of dollars for a surgery that was marginally successful. But, he also told me she would heal or she wouldn't, he felt that if I took her in and let her rest, it would be more telling than further tests. So, in she came and in she stayed, she decided at that point that she was not going back outside.

Our new routine involved her hunting the mice that had taken over my apartment and trading them with me for treats, looking out windows and taking over my bed. Nights spent making biscuits and sucking on her, yes, it is now HER, blanket, weekends in my daughters lap. When I say, that she was not going back outside, as the weather warmed, I would leave the down stairs door open, she would go down and look out, but the second she heard me at the top of the stairs, she would race up the stairs with a look of shear panic on her face and hide under the bed.

I renamed her Lola, because what Lola wants, Lola gets, my furry blanket, the biggest share of the bed, my lap, my popcorn... My heart.

She did heal, her hip and her heart, a move 900 miles away and she now refuses to be inside all the time. A kitty door installed has given her freedom, confidence in sanctuary and has saved my sanity.