LouLouBell part 2

My first days with Midnight were peaceful enough, maybe a little too peaceful; I barely knew I was the owner of an animal at all. She spent most of her time under any piece of furniture that would give her refuge, only venturing out when I was away from the house. I was fine with that in the beginning. I was still questioning whether a cat was a rational and reasonable substitution of the dog I truly yearned for. The days turned into weeks and the only hard evidence that I had of her existing at all was an empty bowl every morning, and the little "gifts" she left in the litter box. It's probably better this way I kept telling myself, we can get acquainted over time. After months of the same routine, I was beginning to take it personally, and trying hard not to feel that I had been duped. I already accepted my noncanine fate: I wouldn't be taking her for walks, or playing fetch, or teaching her to balance a treat on her nose, she would never be the beloved dog I wanted so desperately. I have a cat. Fine, so be it; but what kind of companion was this? She could at least come out of hiding long enough to let me know she was alive, rub against my leg now and then to tell me she around, or give an occasional purr to say thanks for the cat chow. Anything at all. Other than the telltale signs that she liked to start her day with a hearty meal, (she never left a morsel) we were still as strangers. She was as reclusive as Greta Garbo. I imagined that if I ever actually did encounter her, she would open her little kitty mouth and say with a slightly Scandinavian accent: " I "vant" to be alone", while retreating back into the shadows under the bed. It was beginning to resign myself to the fact that my only reward for saving this "scaredy cat" was going to be empty food dishes and full kitty boxes. Lucky, lucky me!








I was sitting on the sofa reading a book. Totally engrossed in the story, at first I didn't even realize that I wasn't alone. I bent down to grab my drink off the coffee table and out of the corner of my eye I saw something behind me. Slightly startled, I jerked my head around to see what it could be: lo and behold it was my elusive pet. There she was sitting on the back of the sofa like she too was enjoying the book, reading it over my shoulder. She looked different than I remembered, of course my memory was a little fuzzy, I hadn't laid an eye on her for half the calender year. She had gained weight, her coat was shiny. She looked healthy, rejuvenated; like she had been on a long kitty spa vacation. Hmmm I said, so you like read too. She just sat there fat and glowing, waiting for me to open the book back up so she could finish the chapter, but I wanted to talk. I put down the book, turned to face her and said: Listen you, I understand you needed a period to adjust, but I think you really should start acting a little more adoring and grateful. I mean, what am I getting out of this relationship? I saved you from Atilla the Vet, I put a roof over your head, I foot your enormous food bills, I keep your litter box fresh and clean etc... you gotta give a brother a break and show me a little gratitude. She stretched out her leg and licked her paw casually. I wasn't quite sure if I was being ignored or if she was thinking while she groomed. I decided to keep going (who knew when I would see her again). While we are at it: your name, are you happy with it? Midnight? She continued licking. Midnight I'm talking to you. She was quite thorough, working on each toe with gusto, never stopping to answer. How about Blanche? No reply. Eunice? Nada. Spike? Fluffy? Imogene? Whiskers? By this time she had moved on to her front paws, examining each one intensely, still silent and ambivalent about a name change. I, on the other hand, was determined to find a title more suitable for her. I'm not exactly sure why I was so adamant about it, she couldn't have cared less, but the name just seemed so wrong, it had to be made right. I pressed on: Maria is a pretty name. Patches maybe? Susan? Freda? Eloise? Nonplussed and non committed, she made her way to her tail, taking long swipes across it with her tongue. Completely frustrated, I picked her up and turning her face to mine, I tried to sit her on my lap. She bounded off my legs like she was walking on burning coals, hissing and growling. Jumping back on the sofa, shooting me a searing scowl, and a parting slap in the face with her tail. Indignant and furious at being interrupted, she turned her back to me, growled a low long growl as if to say; back off punk, and then resumed her preening. Sorry madame, I said: I just wanted your attention. I was defeated and ready to give up entirely. ok, I thought: if she doesn't care, why should I. Suddenly a name popped into my head out of nowhere. With one last ditch effort, I halfheartedly threw the name out in her direction. LouLouBell has a nice ring to it. She stopped her fastidious toilette, tilted her head, and looked up from her backside. Clearly and distinctly she said: Meeeeow! LouLouBell?, I said again. Meeeeow, she said again. Having to make completely sure this was the one, the tag she would carry on her collar from now on, I quickly whispered one last time; LouLouBell? MEEEEOW she hissed, as if to say: Yes; I like it, now leave me alone. I smiled, satisfied. LouLouBell it is. Funny, I thought to myself; she doesn't have a Swedish accent at all.








Slowly and surely LouLouBell and I became friends. She started spending more time on the furniture, rather then under it. She would randomly ask for my affections, pushing her head against my hand, or wrapping her tail around my arm while sitting beside me. She even sat on my lap now and then without acting like I had just lit her on fire. If she wanted to be petted, I petted her. If she wanted to sit on my lap I let her, and when she wanted to leave I let her do that too. I never forced her, I left everything on her terms. and eventually I gained her trust. She was cute, and charming, and I liked her independence. Over time I forgot all about ever wanting a dog. I fed her and loved her, and let her do whatever she wanted. She responded in kind, the more I gave her, the more she gave back. I think she knew I saved her, and she never forgot. As the years went by, it was obvious that we were devoted each other. Her personality blossomed, and she was quite a character. Being abused by her former owner which happened to be a woman, she never liked women at all. Most of my women friends were barely tolerated, and some she completely detested, but she let them all know from the beginning to keep their distance. One friend whom she particularly despised would try endlessly to make nice with her. LouLou would have none of it. She would turn around, flip up her tail and sashay away slowly, her back arched and her head held like she smelled something foul. It would become known as "giving the ass". Eva, covering her hurt feelings with humor would always say: "that's ok, she knows another bitch when she sees one". The only woman I ever saw her actually like was my friend Megan. She adored Megan, and we never really knew why. It was the strangest thing, any other woman would get "the ass", but with Megan it was all love. If I had to make an assumption, I would say maybe it was because Megan and I are a lot alike. We are both Geminis and have similar personalities. I can never say for sure, but besides Megan, she had no time for any female. On the other hand, she was absolutely enamoured of the boys. Boys of any persuasion. Human boys, feline boys, any male at all, and she was "all in". My friends Bill, Justin, Mike etc... all had her full attention and affection. She flirted, purred and cozied up to any guy that crossed the threshold; be it friends, the plumber or the UPS man. Not only did the males that came in my home get LouLouBell lovin', but every stray tomcat that was within fifty feet my house was subject to her feline adoration. When I adopted her , she came declawed and spayed. The spaying did nothing to deter her from sitting in the windowsills and doorways caterwalling to every randy male cat that was in spitting distance. She would cry and meow out her affection for them from behind screens and glass panes, telling them how she would love to show them a good time if only she could . They would catcall and growl back, encouraging her with all kinds of getaway ideas. Not having claws, I would never let her beyond the screendoor. One day when I least suspected it, she made her escape.



To be continued...