Crazy for Cats?

We have had some awesome cat names in our family over the years. In fairness, they've been pretty darn awesome cats too. To name a few, there's been:

Bracket the supercat.

Pegleg, three legs.

Rusty, seven-note musical purrer.

Topaz, AKA Psycho. Yeah.

Trigger (won't answer to his name).

Pippa the very lucky tabby.

Charlie, lover of old straws.

Foxy, later renamed Keg on Legs.

Life Of Riley: walked in, never left.

Black'n'Blue did the same. Wouldn't go home again.

Poppy whom loved being pushed round in a pram.

Marcus the duster and prowler of the stairway.

Tuxedo the catnip addict.

And Boycey, the literally astounding cat.

And so it really, REALLY annoys me when people call their new cat "Tigger" or "Whiskers" - things like that. That poor cat has to live with that name. There's no surprise many cats get up and move into someone else's house - it's to escape the horrors of "Fluffy." If I have a cat, I will call him Rover. Or Seafur.

They've also started working out why a cat can drink so tidily - well, most cats. Dogs curl their tongues and make a cup; cats curl theirs backwards and touch the surface of the water so that the surface tension sticks a layer of itself to the tongue and then the cat reels it in. Another recently discovered interesting cat's tongue fact: its genetics have a missing blip, meaning they don't detect sweet - which would explain why cats are nuts about marmite. They like strong flavours, but don't care about sweet because they can't taste it!

On the other hand, it's a good job WE like sweet, because Nan and Grandad Cats sent us home with FOUR different types of jam, including my beloved Cathair and Lemon Curd. Mmmmm! They're still insisting that we get the moggies as our inheritance...