the possibilities are endless.
Someone once told me I was abusing the right to name the animal in my apartment. I denied it vehemently at the time. Now I guess I have realized that it may not have been worth putting my cat through several identity crises and potentially adding to her already evident gender confusion just to be able to say things like “George Foreman puked on my bathmat last night”.
That said, do I regret it?
Not a chance.
Her name, I mean, is what I don’t regret. I’m not psyched about the whole “puked on the bathmat” thing. Naturally.
-@
[update: George Foreman puked not only on the bathmat, but also on her favorite sleeping blanket. And the rug. And my keyboard. The fancy, easy-to-digest kitty food I bought is obviously doing a lot of good.]
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civic dooty
