Monday, September 5, 2011


We got a cat yesterday. A pure white cat with a giant plume of a furry tail. He's almost a year old and very sweet.

Z was certain that his name should be Duchess after the white cat in the Aristocats. The momma cat.

I explained to her that he is a boy and that she should pick another name. "O'Malley", she replied, "Thomas O'Malley."

Um, that's a mouthful and knowing that I would be the primary caregiver/feed provider and cuddler, I suggested that we come up with another name.

"Edmond", she said.

Could I call him Eddie? No.

Let's choose something else.

"Fine, momma. His name is Oliver, just like you always wanted."


I am not sure that I have ever wanted a cat named Oliver, but it seems pretty fitting and I was tired of battling over a name.

I made the mistake today of calling him Ollie. Apparently, that is against the house rules and will get you a serious talking to from a 3 year old.

I learned my lesson.

Oliver it is.

1 comment:

  1. That's so cute. I love it when children around that age do things like that. It's just so darn cute.

    Good luck with Ollie.. I mean Oliver. ;)


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