Culling the Leopard Population

As you know, the Baroness has many loves.

Ranking high near the top of the list?

Exhibit A:Leopard skin

This is not me, but I love every single
element of the outfit.
And I do honk on the bobo.

Second on the list?

Exhibit B: Eavesdropping

Again, not me.
But I have been known to also wear
a tablecloth on occasion.

At first glance, it would appear as though these two things have nothing in common. But oh ho! Do they ever.

This past weekend, I was making my usual daily rounds. Well, not really. I was actually making the morning rounds that the Baron has foisted upon me whilst he is afield. Not that I mind. In fact, I quite love it (that's for you, honey). This love, though is nearer the bottom of the list.

As I was coming out of the grocery store, a vision in leopardskin caught my eye, like a blazing beacon of fierceness in the fog of neutrality. Because The Baroness is always on the lookout for how the leopardskin is worked.

And I am most fascinated when it's not just an accessory, but a head-to-toe fashion extravaganza.

And I am over-the-moon ecstatic when the said ensemble is worn, by not a hoochie mama selling her wares in the parking lot but by a senior citizen.

Granny a go-go, baby! It gives me hope and inspiration to see that someone has not relinquished her elan, her joie de vivre once the meter clicks over to 70 years of age (give or take 10 years).

So, there she stands with her coiffed hair, and her stunning ensemble, talking to another older woman, who herself is wearing something darling: that deer-in-the-headlights look. Because this woman has mistakenly asked the Feline Goddess "How are you feeling?". I mean - really.

Where was this woman (whom we will now call DIL) when they were distributing the Senior's Handbook? It's right there on the list of Don'ts. Numero Uno: Don't ask a senior how they're feeling, if you don't want to know, and if you don't care to hear the subsequent tangential thinking that will occur.

The Leopard Lady (LL) starts to rattle off her various ailments (I guess she starts at the head and works her way down...). I, eavesdropper extraordinare, breeze by to return my cart as she gets to the knees. LL says that her osteo-arthritis is acting up, and she's probably be going in for a knee replacement soon. DIH coos and makes appropriate sympathy noises.

As LL goes on and on about all the things she's unable to do, I can't help but quickly check out the her footwear, because - oh yeah, Baroness' Love #1:

Exhibit C: Shoes

LL was not wearing Loubs. Sad, really.

Shoehorned onto her teeny-tiny feet at the bottom of her roly-poly body were a pair of 3 inch heels. Helloo? Sweetheart? Do you think, with all of your years of accumulated wisdom, that you could possibly put 2 and 2 together, and realize that this could be partly to blame for your knee issues? That, and the fact that your Center of Gravity closed for business in about 1983. And you're kind of swaying like a sapling in a windstorm.

So much anxiety overcame me, so many accident scenarios danced through my head that I had to bravely avert my eyes from the magnetic draw of leopard skin and walk away. The potential for imminent disaster was too much for me.

It was like a National Geographic special, where the hyenas are circling and laughing , and hope as you might that the weak will prevail, you know the outcome is not going to be favorable. I just couldn't watch anymore.

I know you can't run because of your sore knees. But for goodness sake, Leopard Lady, at least change your shoes so you can walk a little faster.