“Some people think that if they change the names of things, the things themselves will have changed, too” – David McKay
Last night, while sharing a plate of Texas cheese fries at our local Chili’s restaurant, it was decided that my sons and I would get a cat.
We don’t currently have any pets at home. I have had cats in my past lives but my ex-husband was not a fan of the felines so during my marriage we had none. I am not a canine fan and as such, dogs were also not an option.
My oldest son once had a goldfish named Nemo but we found Nemo floating in his bowl one day. That ended our family pet experience. (And really, is a fish considered a pet? I don’t know about that. That seems akin to a pet rock to me, but, whatever.)
Regardless, over the cheesy fries, two sprites and one cosmo martini, it was decided.
We shall adopt.
Rather than hunt for a newborn, we will visit our local humane society and see if we can adopt one from there.
In discussions over names, I informed my oldest son that the cats at the humane society generally already have names. He looked a bit downtrodden at that since he had spent some time musing over Max, Puma, Hermione (that was my suggestion) and Bella.
He asked why we would could not rename him or her. It was just a cat after all, who would know? I started to comment but he interjected.
“Oh, but wait, its adoption, right? Sister had a name and was renamed. That’s confusing to her, right? Maybe it is better that we keep the cat’s original name after all. That is after all its name. We don’t have the right to change it.“
Yes, my son. I agree.