Identity Crisis

To bring you up to date, Mom brought Oscar home from the vet last week with a bag of prescription meds and the information that Oscar was in fact a girl.  At first, I polled my peeps and we were all in agreement that Oscar was still a fine name, even for a girl.  After all, our family does have a history of (to paraphrase my sister, Haley, here…) not conforming to society's gender-based rules regarding pet names.  Recently, we had George and Butch who were Merle's mother and sister, respectively.  Holly's family adopted Fred and George (named after the twins in the Harry Potter books, since I'd just finished reading book seven around the time we found them) and they both turned out to be girls.  Years ago, we had a black male cat named Morticia and his sister was named Gomez.  And at least 75% of Larry, Daryl, Darrell, and Darryl were female.  My point is, as a family, we aren't generally worried about such things.   But Mom really had issues with the whole Oscar thing.  And frankly, I was having problems remembering to call her Oscar.  (Remember I was instantly a whole year older during this time frame.)  About that time, the Veterinary Pet Insurance Co. came out with their list of the top 10 most unusual cat names from the roster of their insurees:  1) Purr Diem; 2) Bing Clawsby; 3) Cleocatra; 4) Admiral Pancake; 5) Optimus Pants; 6) Chairman Meow; 7) Boo Manchu; 8) Watts in a Name; 9) Chenoa Azure Marshmellow-Puff; and 10) my personal favorite, Senor Nachos.  I intended to mention these names to Mom, but before I could, she suggested naming her Gracie.   Gracie was fine; in fact, I got a wee bit of a thrill saying "Goodnight, Gracie" each evening!  Although my fellow crazy cat lady/co-worker, Deborah pointed out that Lucy would be better because when we got home we could call out, in a sort of Spanish accent, "Lucy!  I'm home!" and if there were a hairball horked up, we could look at her and say, again in the Spanish accent, "Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do!"   And she has red hair, so Lucy would have been a purrfect fit, but Mom wanted Gracie.   The next few days, she was Gracie.  Until yesterday morning when Mom says that she doesn't know… she just doesn't LOOK like a Gracie.  I pointed out that most 16-week old people don't look like their names either, but most parents don't change horses not once, but twice, in the middle of that stream.  I suggested that she take yesterday to think about it, and come up with a name.  But that by the end of the day, she needed to have a name and we were NOT going to change it.  Mom agreed.   I had lunch with Jennifer yesterday and she said she really liked Cleocatra.  I said I'd suggest it to Mom.  Meanwhile, Shawna (a girl at work) mentioned the name Uniqua… I don't recall in what context, but it was work-related, and we loved it.  I said I'd suggest it to Mom, too.  When I got home, Mom had not come up with another name.  I suggested Cleocatra, and we could call her Cleo for short.  Mom liked it.  (I forgot about Uniqua… more than a few chickens had crossed my path since that conversation.)    So it was official (again), Oscar was now Cleocatra, Cleo for short.  And we were happy.  Although I found the hard "ka" sound to be disconcerting.  So this morning, as we're taking our walk, Mom asked me to remind her what Cleo was short for… Cleopetra or Cleocatra.  I said, well, it was Cleocatra, but now that she said it, I really like Cleopetra.    So now it is REALLY official, she is Cleopetra, Cleo for short.  And we've short of waffled our way into deciding that she should be brought inside.  I mean, if the Lord provided her as a companion for Merle, then we have issues because Merle hasn't been around since his hissy (literally) fit the day Cleo showed up.  And I feel SO bad shutting her outside at night when we go to bed.  She just sits there on the welcome mat and looks inside with such hope in her greasy little eyes (greasy from the medicine we've been putting in them twice a day).   This weekend, Cleo will be done with her meds.  She will get a good bath – may have to use Dawn to tackle her greasy face!  She will then be quarantined in Mom's bathroom (don't worry, it's a big bathroom, and she's a tiny cat) until we can get the current residents used to her presence in the house. Last night, I stopped and bought her a litter box and a fluffy pillow to sleep on.  She is now 4 months old, and she should be 4 pounds soon, if not already, since we've gotten rid of the fleas, mites, worms, and respiratory infection.  So we can get her fixed and before we know it, our little family will be back to (semi?) normal.  (And once we get her greasy face washed, I'll get a better picture posted.  I'd love to get a family portrait, but it's difficult to get everyone to light in one place long enough to focus a camera.)