The Animal Planet aired a show last week about the world's cutest cat, and something about it reminded me of a time when I had taken my exceptionally cute cat to the vet's. While we were waiting our turn, a young couple came in with a furry little kitten. The wife sat down holding the kitty on her lap while her husband went to the receptionist's window to check in.
After getting pertinent info such as name, address, phone number and such like, the receptionist said, "And what's the kitten's name?" The young man muttered something that sounded like "F-vvv." The woman said, "What?" and only slightly louder he said again, "F-vvv." She said, "I'm sorry. I still didn't hear you," to which he responded more loudly and quite distinctly, "Fluffy!"
Can you guess who lost the argument over naming the kitten?
I got my cat ("free to good home") when she was just eight weeks old. She was all black and had beautiful eyes that were mostly blue but ringed with green. I named her Murphy because I was sure nothing could be that stubborn and not be Irish.
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