Lucille

Lucille is our very temperamental, very ill cat. Jody and I got her as a kitten before we were married. We felt sorry for her because she was found in an air vent as a tiny kitten with no mama around. We loved her and tried our best to make her a sweet, gentle cat. But she's just not. There's nothing sweet about her. I defended her for a long time, saying she acted the way she does because she didn't have her mama when she needed her. I soon gave up on defending her and accepted the fact that she's just moody and would rather be left alone. She stays outside but loves to dart in when people open the door. She will often hide and not show herself again until 2:30 in the morning when she scratches her claws down the wall by my bed. I then find myself in a tired stupor chasing her through the house, under tables, behind chairs, trying to get her out. She is evil. Pure evil. And she likes it that way.

So imagine my surprise when I heard Sam and Jack giggling the other night and walked in to find Lucille laying perfectly still on Sam's bed, covered in a tiny blanket as the boys fawned all over her. Sam even put his children's bible in front of her in case she wanted to read. The boys were thrilled that she was acting like a "normal" cat and even resembling a real pet. I could tell she was dying to dart under the bed away from their attention. But she laid there patiently for a full two minutes and let the boys have fun with her...even if she hated every second of it.