Not long ago in a living room a variable distance away …
Yes, I did.
Background: The Girl has a kitten but The Boy already has a full-grown cat. The kitten, Nimoy, can usually catch her tail, and then chews on it for a full minute before she realizes it’s not prey, it’s her. Darth Jingles hunts rodents, birds, reptiles, and butterflies. Any insect really, but she prefers butterflies.
Darth Jingles is black like the dark soul she’s partially named after, slinks through the house like a ninja, and doesn’t use her claws when playing with her humans. Usually. Hubby is an exception. Nimoy thunders like a horse, which is odd because she’s tiny and just barely stopped waddling. Her claws and teeth are in constant play and razor sharp (which is odd because we clipped her claws in self defense). Both have bells on their collar, but in Darth Jingle’s case it does little good. You hear her jump or run, but otherwise she’s silent as the grave. Nimoy can’t breathe without initiating a silver tinkle of tiny bells. Seriously, the cat’s noisy. Jingles ‘speaks’ when it’s necessary, Nimoy won’t shut the hell up and she’s loud enough to hear over the TV.
There have been a few minor scuffles, but nothing to speak of and Darth Jingles has made no effort to put Nimoy in her place. It’s like Jingles knows this annoying ball of fluff is The Girl’s pet and she’s not allowed to rough it up. I figure one really good whack should do it. Maybe. Nimoy’s dim, so maybe two. But Jingles just leaves or settles somewhere out of reach of the tiny annoyance. The tension is killing us. Also, snow, so both cats are inside all day and the cats and kids are doing this strange dance to keep the curious kitten (did no one tell her about curiosity?) and the cat with cabin fever away from each other unless supervised. Then there’s me, walking around, opening doors and “Releasing the Katzen!” to just get it over with.
Darth Jingles has been provisionally renamed “Darth Huffy” because she’s fed up with this kitten nonsense but won’t do more than huff her displeasure. Mostly at The Girl who awarded her the new name. Nimoy, who was named after Leonard Nimoy (of Star Trek fame in particular and who died earlier this year) is an issue. Not the cat, her name. Actually, I like “Nimoy.” I think it’s cute and told The Girl I may borrow it for a character sometime. She shrugged. Naming one cat in the Star Wars universe and another in the Star Trek universe doesn’t seem at all unusual in our household. But changing “Darth Jingles” to “Darth Huffy,” however temporary, maybe, tips the scale for Star Wars.
It has nothing to do with The Force Awakens, which we’ve all seen and I won’t discuss. Although The Girl won’t stop bursting into our room at odd hours with new theories about where the new trilogy (assumed) is headed.
Anyway, we have a Star Trek cat in a Star Wars house. For naming purposes, in reality it’s the other way around. So I put it to the family last night as we sat around playing Cards Against Humanity. (Yes, I’m an interestingly questionable parent to cave to both kids’ request for the game for Christmas. Worse to actually play with them.)
So Darth Jingles/Darth Huffy and … ? Hubby thought about it and looked at Nimoy settled in The Girl’s lap batting at the cards as she played them.
The Girl, unfortunately, was drinking milk and snorted it out her nose at her dad’s answer. Not in laughter like me and The Boy, but indignation that anyone would suggest such a thing about her kitten.
For the rest of the night, three out of four humans called Nimoy “Jar-Jar” and the male members of the house kept talking to her in an annoying, nearly unintelligible manner. It’s really weird to hear Cards Against Humanity hands in that voice. Just saying.