Wolves.

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…

Prisoner of War.

Lois the FinLois always has to check the basement before bed to make sure that everything’s locked up, etc. This process can take anywhere from one to three hours. Thankfully she is usually happy to wander around by herself with her flashlight, but some nights (like tonight) she requires our assistance with checking and rechecking and rechecking (repeat 500 times) the locks. These are the nights that you wonder what you could have possibly done in a former life to deserve this special kind of hell.

And as if things weren’t terrible enough, Lois insisted that I follow behind her as we went up the stairs, because she had the flashlight and she was worried that I might fall. So she took the steps, verrrry slowly, one at a time, and each step was aided by the abrupt force of her bullet-like farts. By the third step, I couldn’t take it anymore.

Me: “Lois, you go on ahead without me. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Lois: “Oh no, it will be much safer if you follow behind me. I’d feel terrible if you had a fall!”

Me: “I just figured that it might be a good idea to check the locks a few hundred more times.”

Lois: “Oh, good idea. Here, I’ll let you take the flashlight so that you can see what you’re doing.”

Mind you, there are about 6 lights that are left on in the basement for her crazy cat all night long, but Lois is blind as a bat.

Me: “Thank you, Lois. The flashlight really does help.”

Lois made her way up the stairs slowly but surely, with the aid of her rapid-fire farts. The sound echoed through the basement and for a moment I felt like a prisoner of war.

And she never even said “excuse me”. Not even once.