The Feline Report

Back in our " crammed into a box they have the gall to call an apartment" days, a beautiful cat decided to adopt us. This sweet little underfed, dirty, and wounded feline met me at the door one morning and walked in as tho it owned the place, and I turned to the wife and said, "Honey, looks like we have to put more catfood on the grocery list."
The tip of the poor things' tail was bent, and it had an open wound beneath the matted hair on it's side. We took the cat to the vet and and he cleaned it up and stitched her wound, and with that, it became ours. We have no idea if the poor thing had escaped an abusive owner or had just had bad luck while homeless, but it had such a sweet, trusting demeanor with us we couldn't turn it away.
Now, the real story about this cat is that we assumed from the way it came sashaying into the house, the lilt of it's meow, the whole attitude, that this was a female cat. The vet told us otherwise, yet we just couldn't think of this prissy little thing as masculine by any stretch of the imagination. So, what else could we do?
We named him/her Lola.



We already had another male cat whom we'd named Tuvac, after the Vulcan, and this cat grew up to match the name perfectly. Tuvac is one serious cat, there's always a proper way to pet him, unless you want to lose a hand, and he likes his lap time when HE wants lap time, which is usually when we have something in our laps already. If you tell him to get down, he always throws a nasty feline comment back over his shoulder, like it was HIS idea to get out of your way, not yours.
Well, Lola eventually decided for some strange reason to eschew the litter box in favor of the carpet in the corner of the living room. It may be this litter box territorial thing that can occur between two cats; who knows, the rules were broken, and Lola became an outside cat. Since then she has lost the spare tire that cats can acquire from an inside life of luxury, but she has fared well considering. She's not much of a hunter, especially since she was de-clawed, but every once in a while we'll observe her batting some tiny insect or lizard to death with her paws like a speed boxer or something. It's hilarious to watch. Whatever, she is content to hang around the house, and hasn't run off elsewhere for perhaps a better deal.
I figured you guys had heard enough about the goats, so I decided to give some of the other animals their blog time.