Monday, July 26, 2010

What's in a name?

We don't get too creative with naming the creatures that show up in our yard. We do spend a little more time and effort on our indoor pets. We have two min pins, Roman Ross Pennington and Candy Alamolicious Pennington (she came from Alamo, Tennessee). We put some thought into those. But we don't exactly get out the baby name book for the squirrels and the cats and kittens that find our way into the yard.

Take, for instance, Tuesday. Tuesday is a cat that showed up one night as I came home from work. Guess what day of the week that occurred? We weren't really sure that she was a "she" until batch one of kittens came along.

The first batch of kittens resulted in one with siamese-esque markings -- Tip (due to the marks on its ears). The next was fluffy, so his name was ...Fluffy. And the gray kitty was aptly named Gray.

Batch two came along. Another siamesey kitten was named Bingo. The striped kitty was named Tiger. And the one that looked like its mother was named Sunday -- the day of the week on which he was discovered.

If we thought we could capture Tuesday and get her to the vet, there wouldn't have been another batch. However, she is a stray. She allows us to pick her up and take a few steps, but not very far. Her contact with us is limited. But she always brings her kittens to us.

Batch three brought another three kittens. Another one marked like a siamese was named Cupcake pretty much because we'd just made cupcakes to take to a school party. The first kitty we found that looked like Tuesday was named Monday, because we discovered her on that day. A kink in our system occurred Monday night, though, when a second kitty appeared that looked like Tuesday. So, we called it Nighty.

Nighty and Cupcake have been missing for a while. Monday is the only one left. But Monday has been renamed by Jim. And it's a name that really fits.

Whenever the cat catches a glimpse of us, it's mouth opens. We can hear it faintly from indoors. As soon as the door opens, you can hear him soooo loud.

So now we've call him Screaming John.

No offense to any of the Johns in the world. It's just the name that popped out and it stuck.

Screaming John screams constantly. He screams to be fed. He screams when he's fed. He screams to be petted. He screams when he is petted. He's certainly a vocal little fella and one who is finally appropriately named.

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