What Lola wants . . .

What Lola wants Lola gets is the title of a well known song.  The Lola of whom I write is something else.  She is a cat, a stray handed in to the local vet in a very up-market area of Surrey.  Poor Lola looked very much the worse for wear; coat matted and eyes dull, tail hanging down – the epitome of feline forlornness.

Having looked her over, the vet announced that Lola was no common cat, how could she be with a name like Lola. She was wearing a silver collar, with her name printed in little diamante stones, but there was nothing else, no telephone number or address.  The vet stated that he thought she was a Devon Rex. She was very lean and had fur rather like a lamb in a darkish brown with whirls of blue-ish black, her ears were large and very erect above a very tiny face in which were set the most enormous golden–coloured eyes.  If this were true then Lola was quite a valuable animal.

The surgery got in touch with the local Cats’ Protection League to see if an animal of this type and description had been reported missing, but in the meantime the assistants at the surgery cleaned her up and gave her some t.l.c. which was badly needed.  Poor Lola.

After a sponge bath and general tidy up, the little cat was transformed. She looked every inch a pedigree and her purr was so loud, the vet threatened to fix her up with a volume switch. The assistant was attempting to get her back in a cage when she escaped, leaping up onto the bookcase and peering down with enormous golden eyes to the surgery below.  Each time the poor girl tried to grab her, she would leap onto another piece of furniture, obviously having a lovely game, escaping re-capture.  The surgery was in chaos. Dogs were barking, setting off all the others, Ordinary “Moggies” complaining balefully about “fancy cats, no better than street-walkers” being brought in and put in front of everyone else just because they were “pedigree”. Who did she think she was, parading about the place whilst they sat quietly waiting to have their supplies cut off?  How dare she, over-bred, pampered little madam.

The senior vet came out of his office and stated that he had looked it up on the NET and she was a Devon Rex, and that the local C.P.L. had been notified of her loss.  Her owner had reported her missing and would be in later to retrieve this flighty little furry person and take her home.  The young veterinary assistant was a little disappointed as she rather hoped she would be allowed to keep Lola if no-one claimed her.

An hour or two later the owner came in to pick Lola up.  She was accompanied by an obviously very wealthy, stout and elegantly dressed gentleman, many years older than the slim and beautiful young woman.

 “Oh what a relief,” stated the lady, “aren’t we lucky to get our baby back.” 

“We certainly are Lela, said the gentleman, “what would I do without my two little princesses, Lela and Lola? They are my reason for living. What can I possibly do to cheer you both up after being parted for so long? I know, I will buy you a new collar, Lola, diamond encrusted of course, no diamantes for my little baby, with your name and address printed on it, and for you Lela, a new diamond necklace, how would that be?” 

“Oh, how lovely,” purred Lela and Lola in unison. 

Whatever Lola and Lela want, they both get… and the poor old common MOG gets nothing at all… And I mean absolutely nothing at all …

By Betty McDonald, Kent (UK)

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