[Mo_Gearhead]

Always liked dogs. Cats---pfffft!

Then along came a life altering experience called --- marriage.
Me - “Well, you can get A (as in singular - one!) cat --- but I get to name it.”
Her - (with an upturned eyebrow) “O...K."

“Frankenstein” (she called him Frank) lived to be almost 20.

Went cat-less for several years.

Then when her father passed, we inherited his black cat. His name already set.

While her sister was visiting (Note to males: beware the doubling-down effect of two females with similar DNA) and I was outnumbered, they bring home a kitten from a rescue. He and his siblings apparently born on top of a car engine. He, the only survivor, suffering the indignity (and certain pain) of having his right rear paw burnt off on a hot exhaust manifold. Surrendering to them (I had to - her sister is a redhead!) I reminded her of our deal.

“Stumpy” has adopted me. He follows me around, lays in my lap, and cries when I leave the house. My favorite line now, when new people meet him; “He’s always looking for his PAW."

Once he get older, goes off to school and then finally understands the sick irony of his name---he may come home and take his revenge!