lizzielou.com

Harriet is the cattiest cat we have ever had (maybe besides poor, dumb Monster). The reason her name is Harriet isn’t just because she’s hairy. She also looks like a Harriet. She looked like a little-bit-grumpy, slightly paranoid, certainly snobby, old lady named Harriet… as a KITTEN. Her previous person –what’s the name for that? it’s not her birth mama; it’s kinda her foster parents; or maybe her mother’s midwife? pimp? whatever– agreed that this was a fitting name for her.

I forget how Lolly found her (I was brought in to the whole process rather late), but soon we found ourselves in the car driving almost two hours out to some farm to fetch her. Then she screeched the entire ride back. (Harriet, not Lolly.) It was dark and raining. And screechy.

Her assimilation into the household went pretty smoothly. What’s not to like about a confident, curious fuzzball? Even our jaded old queens (that would be everyone except Franklin) were well behaved. Franklin and Harriet soon fell in love. They are now known as “The Longbodys” Mr. Franklin P. Longbody and his wife, Harriet. Their union was a whirlwind; no time to register at the PetCo or the Mud Bay Granary. Someone else fell in love too. Not immediately, because that love was unrequited at first, but after a while…

Lolly and Harriet sitting on the couch
S-m-o-o-c-h-i-n-g
First comes love, then comes Harriet taking up a full third of the bed as Lolly spoons her and I am all alone and cold on my remaining sliver of bed.

:::insert deadpan face emoji here:::

I try to give Harriet some love too. Her response to which is almost always a high-pitched, and rather nasal sounding, “Neeeeeeeewwwww.” Then she stares at me from across the room with her big eyes and her little pouty face. She is so totally and completely Lolly’s cat. So much so, that Harriet dismissively refers to me as: “Mommy’s Roommate.”