Size 6 3/8

Ok, so we came close to having to make Coco into a hat last night.

She came in from outdoors and ran up to Heather and pounced her muddy little paws all over her white pants and then bolted across the room, jumped up, and urinated all over the couch. Not a slight little lady-like pee, this was a bladder unloading torrent of Hell's Hot Lemonade.

So we're measuring our heads and comparing them to Coco's circumference, and discussing whether the tail should hang on the side or in the back.

Why a hat, you ask? Because she is too small to make a decent coat.

Cocella The Pill (Sung to the tune of Cruella De Vil)

Cocella The Pill, Cocella The Pill
If her stink doesn't scare you
no rotting thing will
To smell her is to feel completely ill
Cocella, Cocella

The curl in her tail
The gleam in her stare
Garbage-can chickens better beware
She's like a beggar sitting by the grill
Look out for Cocella The Pill

At first you think Cocella is a squirrel
But after time has worn away the shock
You come to realize
you've seen her kind of eyes
Watching you from underneath a sock

This future fur hat, this
black skinny beast
She ought to be locked up
and never released
The world was such a quiet place until
Cocella, Cocella The Pill

Cocella The Pill, Cocella The Pill
If her stink doesn't scare you
no rotting thing will
To smell her is to feel completely ill
Cocella, Cocella

The curl in her tail
The gleam in her stare
Garbage-can chickens better beware
She's like a beggar sitting by the grill

Look out for Cocella The Pill