Princess Lola

She is no princess, and in fact I HATE how we anthropomorphize our animals, but it’s too tempting as a post title.  I prefer animals without human names; Gary’s dog is Cricket, a perfect name for a dog.  I’ve heard of dogs named Paper Clip, Fury, and Parakeet– also awesome names.  But our dog was named Lola when we got her from the humane league and it did not seem fair to her to change it so she remains, named after a human, Lola.  At least, as a derivative of Dolores or “our lady of sorrows,” it fits.  She seems so sad to live in the Northeast, to have lived through yesterday’s high of 16 degrees.  A Chihuahua mix, she dreams of the hot sun south of the border, lazy afternoons spent outside in desert air, the freedom to run free and steal snacks from street vendors (clearly I have never been to Mexico but my imagination puts Lola near a tin shack.  That’s probably terrible stereotyping and I apologize).

Despite her dreams Lola lives in a tiny house with three humans and two cats, one of which just HATES her.  She is virtually housebound for the winter and is constipated by the cold– she will refuse to poop and then refuse to eat and I’m sure it’s to avoid having to visit the frigid loo.  Even sleeping in a king-sized bed with a hot-flashing queen is insufficient to warm her cold bones.

She’s cold and sad, yes.  But she is well-loved, indulged, sweatered, pampered.   She is the hyperkinetic center of the home’s energy, which really pisses Grimmy off and puzzles Billy.  She’s constantly, unwittingly entertaining.  Not a princess, but our court jester.