Thursday, March 29, 2012

I, for one, Welcome Our Kitty Overlord!

I'm not sure how long it takes to get to the Lakewood Animal Shelter from my house, but that's about how long it took for me to get a kitty after we determined my darling poppet was no longer allergic. They only had 3 cats there, and she had me at hello.  I walked in the kitty room, and she screamed at me.  The only possible interpretation was, "You look like a sucker. Let's get the hell out of here."

We haven't had a cat in 9 years, so there was much rejoicing at home.  Winston loves cats, and he actually cracked a rare smile at this ridiculously tiny 5lb tabby.  The kids now spend all their time taking turns staring deeply into her eyes.  The poodles adore her, even though she kicked every one of their asses, Matrix-style.  She also managed to chase the two larger poodles out of the bed, so Winston and I are actually sleeping comfortably for a change.  So it's all perfect. Except for the naming part.

We have never had a naming issue before.  We only had one name picked out for Henry.  Anne was never going to be anything but Anne.  Henry named our first poodle, Seymour, and it totally suits him.  Anne named our second poodle, Mr. Pickles, and I defy you to find a happier name for a dog.  Winston named our giant poodle, Zyk, because he wanted a dog with a normal name, and he refused to allow me to name him Mr. Darcy because of the potential embarrassment of yelling that at the dog park. ("Mr. Darcy! No humping!)

And actually, Zyk (pronounced Zeke) is the name of one of the coolest kids ever.  We met Zyk and his hippie family at my son's cello camp in northern Michigan.  It's a commune-like summer camp for cello students and their over-involved parents. You sleep in sheds, there are only trails through the woods to the "classes" which are housed in barns or ancient gazebos.  Zyk was in Henry's class.  Except he refused to play.  If the teacher asked him to try a new bow rhythm or something, Zyk would, blank faced, throw his bow on the ground and stare at the instructor.  Or many times, he wouldn't even come to class.  The instructor would say, "Where's Zyk?"  And his hippie dad would reply, "I think he's up a tree."  Winston found him once, about 30 feet up a tree.  Zyk's father was totally unconcerned.  How can you not love a kid like that?  He was hysterical. I'm not even sure he played the cello.

So we tried to agree on a name.  Charlotte, Maggie, Evie, Nora, you name it.  The boys totally rejected all cute names.  They wanted an androgynous name, like Scraps or Squeek.  Anne and I refused to give in, because after 3 male pets, you better believe she's getting a girl name.  After 3 round table discussions that went nowhere, I tried a new tactic.

Me: Ok, one at a time everyone submits one name. Anne?

Anne: Bella.

Me: Yeah, but everyone names their cat Bella.

Anne: It means "beautiful" and she totally is!

Me: Henry?

Henry: Driller.

Me (slamming hand on table):  That is the worst name for a cat ever! What is your problem?

Henry: Driller! Driller! Driller!

Me (wearily): Winston?

Winston: White Kitty Poop Face.

Me:  That's stupid. She is a brown and black tabby with no white on her whatsoever!

Winston: White Kitty Poop Face.  It's awesome.  Do you have something better?

Me: Agnes of God. It is perfect and I demand that be her name.

(general screams of all versions of "no". )

Finally, Winston said, "How about Ripley? "  We all responded with an "ah-ha!",  because the character played by Sigourney Weaver in Aliens is our personal hero.  And it's kinda cute and she is very badass.  So we decided on Ripley.  Except...

I discovered that no one is really calling her Ripley.  Anne's girlfriends told me, "Bella is so cute!"  I whipped around and found Anne standing there with an "oh crap" look on her face.   Henry told me that Driller loves to watch him play Call of Duty, because she loves senseless violence.  And I definitely heard Winston whisper "white kitty poop face" to her during a snuggle.   I have been calling her Agnes of God because it brings whimsy to my day and lends itself to fabulous text messages to Winston.  Examples:

"Agnes of God made a big poopie today!"
"Agnes of God ate butter off of my finger!"
"Agnes of God made Mr. Pickles cry today!"

 What's interesting is that she answers to all of these names.  I think she's just glad to have a home full of mental patients to adore her.  Apparently, she was a stray the animal control officer found eating out of dumpsters behind some bars in Lakewood.  However, our new kitty overlord is settling in quite well, whatever her name is.

Really.  She kicked the asses of a combined total of 100lbs of poodle.