LuLu, the cat, and Lucille, the “cat lady,” are quite a pair and both have beehives. LuLu grew excessive hair on her crown due to "Walgreen’s Hair Growth Enhancer" that Lucille mistakenly applied to LuLu thinking it was the "All Natural, All-Profits-Go-to-Aid-Orphaned-Tibetan-Cats Flea Repellant." Lucille derives much pleasure from styling her Lu's hair/fur. It takes her back to childhood when she would create big hair for her Troll Dolls. Lucille feels passionate about many things, but nothing surpasses her passion for her feline companion and for beehives. She created her first beehive for Woodstock—it was a dandy hiding place for her illegal smoking substance. She later gave up the hemp, but never the hair.
LuLu and Lucille would be inseparable if Lucille had her way. But LuLu has no interest in walking along dirty French Quarter sidewalks or accompanying her to flea-infested parks. So when the leash and pretty pink collar were presented to her, LuLu knew it was time to lay down the law. As soon as she was outfitted in the collar and leash ensemble, Lucille began to walk her. LuLu then proceeded to give herself a pedicure with the sidewalk as her emery board. She dug in and clung to that spot in the pavement. With the tethered walk over and the leash removed, it was then time to decline the torturous (and tacky) pink necklace. She coughed, panted and, with eyes rolled back, feigned a low wheezing death rattle that escaped past her slack mouth and limp tongue. In a panic, Lucille quickly removed the pretty pink collar. LuLu smiled haughtily, stuck her tail straight up, turned, passed gas and sauntered to her kitty bowl for a leisurely and much deserved little snack.
LuLu feels passionate about two things: her friend Lucille and having her way. Her way involves much food, lots of food and water, which she insists come from the bathtub faucet or Lucille's bedside water glass. Treats are extremely vital and include Lay’s Potato Chips and black beans. She is also quite keen to go for rides on the Electrolux vacuum cleaner. Lucille happily cleans house pulling this one-float parade while singing the theme to Love Boat. When Lucille does not comply as her chauffer, Lu simply, and with admirable grace and agility, leaps to the top shelf of the curio cabinet—then looks her friend straight in the eyes and makes air-borne a piece of bric-a-brac (anything antique will do). During the flight and before the inevitable and calculated crash of porcelain, LuLu relaxes and grooms her pitching paw (Whitey Ford would envy her skill).
The one occasion that does not allow LuLu her way is the annual visit to the veterinarian. Although she knows this is for her own good, conceding would set a precedent inconsistent with her reputation. Hoping to dissuade the taxi driver from transporting her to the vet, Lu resorts to dramatics—such as playing a rabid, feral feline and abandoning all bladder control. But that proves no match for the seasoned New Orleans cabbie's experience with Mardi Gras fares. Finally, she conceives of her “Smell Tactic” game plan by dining lavishly upon her black bean treats and then manipulating her strong constitution to produce sinister scents that no taxi driver could endure. But Lucille counters with the promise of extravagant tips. She then arms the cabbie and herself with Fabreezed fans.
Still heady from her recent success with travels to the vet, Lucille decides one excursion a year is not enough. LuLu should experience more outside her habitat. A field trip is in order. A zoo visit to view the white alligator? No, LuLu might frighten the other animals. Perhaps some local culture at the Old U.S. Mint. LuLu always seems to enjoy jazz, so an exhibit displaying Louis Armstrong's first horn might be fun—but what if Lu gets bored? God knows what she might do for attention. Maybe a nice visit to the library? Nix that, Lucille’s New Orleans Public Library card was destroyed. Not on purpose. She had been shopping for avocados for LuLu (she loves them with her black beans) and the fruit stand on Carrollton would not take a personal check. She dashed to her bank’s ATM and mistakenly used her library card, thus creating a slight problem. They still point her out at Whitney Bank as the woman who shut down the ATM on Christmas Eve.
LuLu is aware of an impending field trip and simply cannot be bothered. Doesn't Lucille realize that she is still recovering from the vet visit and will require several more days of intense napping? And there is much work to catch up on. Several days’ worth of the New York Times have piled up without her lying on them. "People," LuLu thinks with great disdain, "simply do not understand a feline’s proprietary relationship with newspapers!" And as if all this were not enough, there is housework to consider. The place really needs a good cleaning and she, of course, will have to supervise from atop the Electrolux. Oh, and that new rug really needs some attention. It will take days of clawing to make it compatible with the antique oriental. A field trip is certainly out of the question. Lucille will just have to content herself with the two of them watching reruns of Kitten Bowl on the Hallmark Channel. So, to sweeten the deal, if LuLu can get her way just this one time, she promises to share her potato chips and let Lucille give her a matching home-perm. Lucille is such high maintenance, but that is just fine with Lu because she loves her Lucille and frankly, they are both long overdue for new beehives.