Persistence

Naming the new cat has been a recurring topic of conversation over break. McKenzie likes names that sparkle, like Crystal, Diamond and Star. Cat hasn't responded to these names, but Kenzie insists that she does. If you squeeze any cat long enough, she'll start talking. I took her contributions into account when announcing the cat's official name at the dinner table last night.

"Gia has been named Giella Spotte Diamond White," I said.

"We mixed Gia and Ella because we liked both," McKenzie said. "But White Diamond sounds better."

Now I had to come up with an excuse besides 'I don't want my cat to sound like a porn star.'

"But then you'd have to change your last name to Diamond."

"Dad," McKenzie said, "can we change our last name to Diamond?"

Holiday homecoming

Arrived home late last night. Cat shivered (out of fear, not the brutal 75 degree florida winter) in the front seat. Mom saw past the strategically placed magazine atop the carrying case, and circled my car to the passenger side like a tiger sizing up its prey. She opened the car door and asked what on earth was in the box. I told her it was a cub. She said I was not funny. McKenzie begged me to take it out. I asked Mom if she was OK, because her eyes looked like they would pop out of her head any second. Dad appeared out of nowhere, so I passed the crate to him and the family accompanied them inside as I continued to unload the car.

As I duckwalked to the house with a week's worth of overpacked luggage, Mom greeted me at the front door. Thankfully her eyes had retreated fully back into her skull.

"Courtney," she said, "it's a cat."

"Yes, Mom, I know. You said no dogs."

"But it's a full grown cat."

"Yeah, it's used. She's really great, though."

"I just didn't think you'd get a fully grown one. She's really sweet. And so beautiful."

When I got to my room, a towel had already been laid out for cub's food and water bowl. Welcome to the family, Cat.