[poll added]
This is not a substantive diary. Far from it. But it's Saturday night, and I'm sitting on my deck slowly recovering from a bout with the alien bird ebola that's going around. So I'm going to use up one precious space on the recent diary list -- a list that moves so fast these days that it might serve as a valid testing ground for the old "could an airplane take off from a conveyor belt?" question (which, of course, it could) -- for whatever this diary turns out to be.
So, my cat needs a name. He's had a few names, but none have really stuck. He's about 9 months old. American shorthair. Petty, conniving, irascible, and stubborn, like all cats. Oh, and I'm not a cat person. I grew up with dogs, lots and lots of dogs. For the most part, the dogs I had were working dogs: farm dogs, hunting dogs, whatever. But they were dogs with a mission. The cat's only mission in life seems to be to tear up paper, get all up in my business, and suckle on my fingers (more on which later). I can't honestly say whether I like my cat because the cat operates on a completely different level, a level from which I appear as a mere food-providing speck far, far below. Goddamned cat.
This raises (not "begs"! ARRR!) the question of why I have a cat in the first place, if I have such ambiguous feelings about the scheming little carnivores. It's a good question. I have a cat because I have a job that prevents me from doing much more than: (1) going to the job, (2) coming home, (3) fooling around here for a few minutes, (4) going to sleep, and (5) doing it all over again. Now, there's more to my life than that, but that's a good summary of the overall structure of my life. And dogs, for all their wonderfulness, are dependent little animals that can't find their own butts if they aren't shown where to look.
Here he is:
Yeah, cute right? That's the day I picked him up back in July. Since then, he's filled out, become more cat than kitten, and continued to make mischief wherever possible. I expected this, but I have to say that the degree of qualitative difference between having a cat in the house ("Welcome home, master. I shall eat you now.") and having a dog in the house ("OMG OMG OMG OMG you're HOME!!!") is unexpected.
Did I mention the suckling? Right. My cat has an oral fixation. I can't go a day without waking up to the disconcerting sensation of my cat deep-throating one of my fingers. Or all of them. One after the other. No, I will not name my cat Linda Lovelace. I was discussing this in a thread last night, and I observed that slobber, with which I am very comfortable (having grown up with a platoon of dogs), was not something that I really factored into the concept of "cat ownership".
So what should I name the cat? I'm not looking for a cute name, even an ironically cute name. I don't want a name from "Cats." And it has to be a name that can be exclaimed in righteous anger, as when the cat inevitably destroys the external hard drive holding my MP3 collection ... again. I don't really like people names because I have an irrational fixation on hosting a party and having to introduce my friend's husband, Sven (for example), to my cat, Sven (for example).
Some other data that might be useful: I am a straight, 33-year-old male, currently unattached (see, work schedule, supra), who will (by all that is holy and good) own a dog within the next calendar year. Combination names are, therefore, on the table. Vegemite and Marmite. Spoon, Fork, and Knife. That sort of thing. Open-ended lists of thematic names are encouraged, as I may end up with more than two pets and, hell, I've gotta have something to call the kids one day ("Marmite, get ready for school!").
I will not name the cat Cthulu.
Speaking of Cthulu, this is DailyKos, and I am a political junkie, so I'm going to attach this coda. There's been a lot going around recently about how Obama supporters eat babies and Clinton supporters are skinning your mother alive right now. And that's not even getting into what Obama and Clinton themselves are doing (hint: it would make Aliens vs. Predator look like The Care Bears Movie). I've been rattling around dkos like a poltergeist at Hogwarts taunting everyone with the mantra that they're both fucking awesome candidates so get the fuck over it and get ready to fight McCain. Or, put differently, we've got to fight 'em over there so we don't have to .. wait, wrong talking point. Here we go: we've got to recognize that one of these folks is going to be our candidate and, enthusiasm being wonderful and all, we need to focus on building them both up as viable candidates against John McCain specifically.
I've gotten tired of typing the same thing again, so, earlier tonight I composed the following visual guide to my personal feelings about the current election:
. *Obama
. *Clinton
.
.
.
. *Cthulu
.
. *McCain
.
.
.
.
.
. *GWB
. *Andrew Dice Clay
.............................................
X-axis: increasing degree of evilness
Y-axis: increasing likelihood that I'll vote for the individual
As you can see, I am an Obama supporter. That does not mean I think HRC is the spawn of Satan's loins. If she knocks Obama off, I'll be sad. I might even go all :( on your asses. But, to me, she's still pretty shiny. I hope Clinton supporters feel the same way, even if the O and C are flipped at the top.
Anyway, name my fucking cat, kos. I'm tired of calling him "the cat".