The Invisible Mob.

Q: How many times does a person have to lock and unlock the front door of the house before an old lady with dementia actually believes that the door is, in fact, LOCKED??

A: Infinity. Because it doesn’t matter whether or not a person PROVES that the door is locked when an old lady with dementia is certain that a mob is planning to break in and rob the place and kidnap the cat.

The Neighborhood Marsupial.

Lois the FinI’m taking care of Lois tonight, and as usual she spent a solid hour calling for her cat, Baby, before bed.  This time Baby actually came into the house and circled around Lois’s legs, meowing and purring, and Lois talked to her and fed her and everything.

As I was tucking Lois into bed, I told her that I was so happy that she got to love on Baby for a while.  Lois looked at me like I was crazy and said, “I never saw Baby tonight!”

Me:  “You actually pet Baby and fed her and talked to her for about 15 minutes tonight, Lois.”

Lois:  “Oh no, you’re mistaken.  Baby got eaten up by wolves this morning.”

Me: “Well that’s too bad.  Who were you loving on in the kitchen earlier then…?”

Lois:  “Oh that was the neighborhood marsupial.”

Me:   “Marsupial?”

Lois:  “Yeah, you know, the skunk!”

Me:  “I didn’t realize that there was an official neighborhood skunk…”

Lois laughed:  “You probably just mistook him for a cat.  Don’t feel bad; it happens to everybody.”

Those God%#@* Coyotes!

Lois the FinLois has continued to ask me about visiting her sister, Sylvia, who has been dead and buried for nearly ten years.  As I mentioned in my earlier post, I have used every tactic that I can think of to try to redirect her thoughts, but to no avail.  Finally, I had no choice but to break the news to her:

Me:  “Lois, I hate to be the one to tell you this…”

Lois snapped:  “Tell me what?!”

Me:  “Sylvia passed away about ten years ago…”

Lois was shocked:  “Did she get hit by a car?!”

I have no idea how Sylvia died, but I didn’t imagine that she was hit by a car so I said, “No.”

Lois:  “Did the wolves get her?”

Me:  “The wolves?  Ummm…that’s highly unlikely.”

Lois:  “It must’ve been the coyotes.  Those GODDAMNED coyotes!”

Me:  “I’m pretty sure that she died of old age, Lois.”

Lois laughed:  “She wasn’t old enough to die of old age!”

Me:  “She was in her 80’s.”

Lois:  “Who the HELL are you talking about?!”

Me:  “Your sister, Sylvia.”

Lois:  “What the HELL is the matter with you!  I wasn’t talking about my SISTER!  I was talking about my CAT!!”

Me:  “Oh, I’m sorry.  I must’ve misunderstood.  I didn’t know that you had a cat named Sylvia.”

Lois:  “I don’t!  My cat’s name is Baby!”

Me:  “Um…okay…so you want to go and visit Baby?  I’m sure that she’s outside if you want to call for her.”

Lois:  “She’s too far away.”

Me:  “She usually just hangs around the backyard.”

Lois:  “Baby is at Sylvia’s house.  I need to go to Sylvia’s house to pick Baby up and bring her home!”

Here we go again…


Lois the FinLois wandered around the house for two hours tonight searching for her crazy cat that completely ignores her. Of course she was wearing nothing but her little pink t-shirt, a pair of saggy Depends and her favorite fuzzy boot slippers.I tried to suggest that she at least wear her bathrobe and her response was: “Do you want me to die of heat stroke or something?!” It was in the 80’s outside today so I could see her point.

I tried to reason with her about flashing the neighbors and her response was: “I ain’t showin’ em nothin they haven’t seen before!”

That is also true.

Two hours later…

Lois: “I can’t find Baby!”

Me: “I know Lois, I’m sorry. I’m sure she’ll turn up soon.”

Lois: “Well the wolves probably got her.”

Me: “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Lois: “Oh no, those wolves gobbled her up! Either that or the coyotes…”

Me: “I’m sure she’s out there somewhere. I saw her at lunchtime.”

Lois: “Did she eat?”

Me: “Yes, she ate some of her soft food.”

Lois: “Oh good! I’m glad Baby got one last, tasty meal before the wild animals ate her for a snack.”

Baby came in an hour later for dinner. She waited until Lois stopped calling for her and then she creeped in and ate her food.

I guess the wolves will have to prey on some other old lady’s cat tonight…

Sweet Potatoes Part II.

c4966565240f8b946921653Lois is sweet enough to let me go to church on Sundays (I stay with her for 48 hours straight on Saturdays and Sundays) as long as I pick her up a cheeseburger and strawberry milkshake on my way home.  I ask her every week if she’d like to go to church with me, and her response usually goes something like this:

Lois:  “Do you know how exhausting it is for an old lady to get ready for church?  I’m too old, and God understands that.”

Usually she takes her morning nap while I’m gone and when I get back I wake her up for lunch.  When I got back from church this morning, however, Lois was waiting for me at the door…

Lois:  “There’s something wrong with Baby!”  (Baby is the most spoiled feral cat on the planet.  She lives in Lois’ basement and only comes up to eat, which is about 5,000 times a day, and Lois obsesses over her CONSTANTLY.)

Me:  “Why do you think there’s something wrong with Baby?”

Lois:  “She must be sick because she refuses to eat anything!”

Me:  “Well I fed her half of a can of wet food before I left for church this morning, so she can’t be too hungry.”


Me:  “Okay, settle down, I will put some food out for her…”


By then I had managed to step into the house and I was able to see that there was a plate on the floor with mashed sweet potatoes on it.  I made my way into the kitchen, and all together I counted 6 plates of sweet potatoes that were set out for Baby.

Oh boy, here we go again…

I picked up the plates and set them on the counter.

Lois:  “Baby can’t get to her food if you put it up this high!”

Me:  “I think Baby just needs some fresh food, so I will open up a new can for her…”


Me:  “Okay Lois, let me explain something…this is not cat food on these plates.”


Me:  “It is actually our leftovers from dinner last night.”

Lois:  “We had CAT FOOD for dinner last night?!”

Me:  (deep breath) “No, we did not have cat food.  We had baked chicken and mashed sweet potatoes, and what you put on these plates for Baby is the leftover sweet potatoes.”

Lois:  “Baby doesn’t like sweet potatoes.”

Me:  “I know she doesn’t.  Most cats don’t.  So how about you let me open up a fresh can of cat food for her, okay?”

Lois cracked up:  “Well NO WONDER she wouldn’t eat!”

Me:  “Yep.  No wonder.”

Lois:  “Who the HELL thought it was a good idea to make cat food out of sweet potatoes?!”

Me:  “You got me, Lois.”

Lois:  “Well by golly, that’s about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of!  Since when does a CAT enjoy eating POTATOES?”

Me:  “I really don’t have an answer to that…”

Lois:  “What brand is that cat food anyway?”

Me:  “It’s ‘Fancy Feast’.”

Lois:  “Fancy Feast MY ASS!  What’s fancy about a sweet potato?”

Me:  “There is absolutely nothing fancy about a sweet potato.”

Lois:  “DARN RIGHT!  Potatoes are the poor man’s food.  Well, I guess I’d better call Baby upstairs for lunch…BABY?  BABY?  BAYYYYY-BEEEEEEEEE!”

Nobody Feeds Baby a Sweet Potato.

Sweet Potatoes.

813500677Lois (hollers from the kitchen):  “What the HELL is this?!”

I quickly made my way toward the direction of her voice.  Me:  “Oh, that’s the leftover sweet potatoes from dinner.”

Lois:  “What the HELL are sweet potatoes doing in the cat food?”

I was confused:  “Um…there shouldn’t be sweet potatoes in the cat food…are you trying to feed the cat?  I will open a fresh can of food for you.”

Lois:  “I don’t NEED a new can!  I want to use the rest of THIS can!”

Me:  “But Lois, that isn’t cat food.  Those are sweet potatoes.”


Me:  “Okay Lois, just calm down and let me explain this to you.”

Lois was panting at this point because she’d gotten herself so worked up.

Me:  “The container that you are holding right now is NOT cat food.”

Lois:  “BUT..!”

Me:  “I am holding the cat food in my hand right now and I am about to put some of it on the dish for Baby…”


Me:  “I’m not giving her sweet potatoes, Lois.  I’m giving her the salmon flavored kind.”

Lois:  “Salmon flavored SWEET POTATOES?!”

Me:  “No.  Salmon flavored cat food.”

Lois:  “Why are there potatoes with salmon?!  Everyone knows that you should serve salmon with RICE!”

I took a deep breath, realizing that there was no winning this debate.

Me:  “How about some milk?  Does Baby like milk?”

Lois:  “Yes, but only if it’s warm.”

(internal eye-roll)

Me:  “Okay, I will warm up some milk for Baby.”

Lois grumbled.

Me:  “What was that you said, Lois?”

Lois:  “I said ‘just don’t mix any SWEET POTATOES in with the milk’…”

I just pretended like I didn’t hear that statement.

Lois grumbled again:  “I just don’t know who thought it would be a good idea to put any kind of potatoes in cat food; sweet potatoes or otherwise!”


Don’t worry, I said that last statement internally.