A while ago now my beloved wife and daughter bullied and cajoled me into adopting a kitten. A sweet bundle they proclaimed it to be and despite the adorable pictures I was strong and resisted. The international mens club (IMC) would have been proud of my resolve.
On the way home from picking up the kitten we bantered back and forth on what to call the mini lion. The usual names arose and were shot down especially the derogatory ones that I chose.
At last as our domicile appeared on the horizon Whispa was the name favoured by all except me. As the little mote became accustomed to our home the wretch became the devoted companion of only my wife and daughter and the only name she ever heard was Babykins. Indeed by her first visit to the Vet for assorted cat needs Babykins was the only name she responded to. She hated me and we fought one another over bloody thirsty staring contests.Who took her to the vets and had to admit to this CATastrophe of a name. . .yes it was me. I bit the bullet for my beloveds and suffered the shame and ridicule from the international mens club.
Then came the day she escaped; an indoor cat suddenly crazed for the big outdoors. Privately I fist punched the air sung a few bars of the famous IMC happy song.Dearest wife beseeched me to go searching for the beleaguered moggy. So to the streets I went one bright Sunday morning full of gardeners and car tinkerers calling out Babykins! Oh Babykins my precious! and planning a very foul feline demise.Then as I sung out the name one more time a squirrel popped up from a patch of deep grass and looked straight at me. I mean who would have thunk it I lived on a street with a Squirrel also named Babykins!
I went home and sobbed.
Oh yeah the smokey monster beat me back home and the IMC still has doubts about my membership.