When I was adopted, I was a purrfectly adorable 4 month-old Oriental Shorthair kitten whose behavior was beyond reproach. All kitties who arrive at a new home should be as well behaved. I could give them lessons, and in fact have frequently been asked by feline friends for advice on how to behave for humans in order to be secure in their fancy new digs.
But anyway, my humans named me Trouble. I wonder if it had to do with the time they went to Florida to visit friends and left me with that oh-so-beautiful lady veterinarian who was instructed to <gasp> neuter me.
When they came home I ripped open my freshly healing surgery site and finished the job by chewing a hole in my neck.
That resulted in a hurried late night visit to the local veterinary ER. Purrhaps that had something to do with my name change. Originally I was dubbed, Moon Raker, a much classier name. Oh well . . .
Maybe it had to do with my charming neurotic habit of over grooming, which left my beautiful coat appearing a tad scraggly. I don't know . . . they told me that the name they chose for me was right on the money. I beg to differ.
Who knows how humans think. I am now almost 8 years old and feel that since I have entered my eldership years, it is about time for them to start calling me by my authentic given name.
Please leave my mom a comment and tell her what you think. She doesn't listen to me!