A Cat With No Name

by Steve Mitchell

Okay, we have a cat now.  He was a feral kitten too gentle and sweet to be released after he was caught and fixed.


His whiskers are whiter than mine…

He was given to Lucie’s boss but her boss had a jealous beagle, so the cat, then a kitten, became the office cat.

We’d cat-sit him over long weekends, and, eventually, over the holidays, he sort of became our cat.

It’s official; I guess.

His name was Ricky (as in Ricky Martin) but we don’t like that name for a cat.

Lucie always called him Abogato (a play on abogado which means attorney – it’s a law office).  That’s what we tend to call him, but it’s a mouthful.

So, we’re still trying to think of a name.


He’s very dapper.


The bowtie makes it.


And he’s very fluffy.


Not so dapper…


And he gets along okay with the dogs.


Not quite yet buddies.


And…he doesn’t quite have a name.

But, there’s no pressure.

He’s a cat.

It’s not like he’ll come when we call him.

He’s a cat.