We once had a cat. We named her Sophia. The kiddos loved her. Me. Not so much.
To begin with, she was offered in an ad for free and we needed to drive 20 minutes to get her, which wasn’t a big deal, however, on the way, I noticed my oil gauge dancing. Never a good sign.
I told Zac we’d need to check the oil. We stopped as soon as we could, added oil and still the oil gauge needle leaped from side to side. We picked out the cat, whose owners said she was a female. We went with it.
$350 later, we had repaired the oil hoses that had exploded and had a cat the kiddos named Sophia.
For months Sophia made Miss M’s room stink. She stained the carpet and the upholstery. It was a love/hate relationship at best. Gag sounds came from the kiddos rooms, indicating Sophia was winning.
Then, as winter began to set in, mice moved into our house. Disgusting, but true. Sophia was lazy and so she would just leave her “calling card” to let the mice know she owned the place.
One morning, as the air chilled and I stood frying eggs on the stove, I unintentionally left the bottom cabinet open. As the eggs popped in the oil, I felt my legs suddenly get warm. I looked down to see Sophia spraying the cabinet, warning the mice.
And that is when we realized Sophia was a HE….
I broke the news to the kiddos that Sophia was a Boy, not a Girl, to which my young child replied, “Cool. Can we change her name to Transformer!?”
As winter grew closer, “Transformer” marked everything…and that is when we gave the cat up to someone who would appreciate him more than I ever could.