What's in a name?

Back when I was working with Anjellicle Cats Rescue in NYC, I would routinely find myself having to rename my foster Keetains.  I say "rename" because they would all come from Animal Care and Control bearing not only little numbered collars, but also names.  Such names.  I guess when you're out of ideas and a mom cat is popping out kitten after kitten right in front of you, you have to think fast.  Judging from the monikers bestowed upon these rescues, it appears some of these people were either loopy from overwork -- or very, very drunk.

Project Kittyface

OK, I confess.  I am a gratefully recovering artist-procrastinator.  I start a new project, expect perfection, and get overwhelmed.  Then I do something I've always done perfectly: abandon it.

All you can eat (just catch it yourself)

Shiver in yer boots, ye insects that venture indoors.  The overwhelming stealth, power and focus of the mighty Keetain hunter is trained on you.  He senses you.  He wants you. He'll get you.

You're toast.  With jam, by the look of things.

I want a man with a slow hand . . .

I want a lover with an easy touch

I want somebody who will spend some time

Not come and go in a heated rush

I want somebody who will understand

When it comes to love I want a slow hand

Some people just have "the touch" with Keetains.  The little things become kitty putty in their hands.  It's rather like hypnotizing a crocodile, but without the potential inconvenience of losing limbs.