What’s in a Name?

Last year we adopted a kitten. It was bittersweet time, as we had put our beloved Gretzky down after a terminal illness that was a horrific time for our entire family. We still had one cat in the house, Hunter, and since Hunter is a girl we thought a girl kitten would be best.

The kitten was also supposed to be a girl cat to counterbalance all of the testosterone in our house ( I was pregnant with 2nd child and 2nd boy, then there’s my husband). Dear Husband went on his lunch break to the shelter and found the perfect sweet girl kitten. Number one son and I met my husband at the shelter and agreed that Pat (this was the name assigned by the shelter) was the kitten for us, she had been spayed already and was ready to go home. Three girls and three boys for our house. We renamed Pat Sasha (die hard hockey fans will notice the theme) but probably should have just left it alone.

At the first vet appointment, after a quick check, our vet asked me if I was sure Sasha was a girl. I told him yes, based on what the shelter told us, not based on any medical fact. A grinning vet informed that he thought Sasha was actually a boy and took him to the back to double check with another vet. The next sound heard was a lot of laughter from the vets, at the crazy pregnant lady up front who thought she adopted a girl cat. Apparently determining the sex of kittens is difficult work and poor Sasha was mis-classed. Who knew? Luckily for us, Sasha can be a boy or girl name, so the poor cat didn’t have to suffer through a name change along with a sex change. But we could have just stuck with Pat and been fine.

So now I am outnumbered in the house and Sasha acts just like a little boy should, he’s loud (for a cat), runs around like a lunatic and constantly picks on his older sister Hunter- he fits right in.

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