What's in a name?

My parents just got a new cat. They haven't named her yet.

As a family, we got our first cat when Dad was away on a trip -- helping to bring peace to Israel or Russia or something. I was maybe 6 years old? My mom figured Dad wouldn't let us get a cat if he was there, but if he came home and we already had a cat, he wouldn't be able to say no.

So, we went to a family friends' house, viewed the frisky kitten, decided to adopt him, and then drove to McDonald's for a treat. On the drive, we began to day dream names for the kitty.

"How about Nugget?" I said.

"Why?" my mom and sister asked.

"Because he looks like a chicken McNugget," I said.

So, Nugget it was. Nugget was insane. He would attack anything that moved, climb the drapes, and go prowling at night. He was traumatically torn from his mother too early so he'd suck on your fingers if you let him. He was eventually hit by a car during one of his prowls, or so we suspect. Whatever happened, his lungs collapsed and we had to put him to sleep. Since our house was surrounded by empty lots at the time, we now suspect the spot we chose to bury him in might be in someone else's yard. Oops.

Our next cat was the opposite of Nugget -- she was quiet and kept to herself and seemed to be afraid of almost everything. But, she was still loving and liked to cuddle and sit in laps.

"Let's call her Shadow," my dad said. "Because she's scared of her own shadow."

Shadow lived a longer, more full life than Nugget, but eventually passed on, as all creatures do, and now she rests quietly in my parents' yard with a tasteful marker to help remind us.

Anyway, the debate goes on with the new kitten. It's black and white, so my sister said, "Let's call her Oreo."

"That's racist," my mom said.

"What?" my sister asked.

"How about Muffin?" my mom asked.

"That's a sexual reference," my sister said.

"Well, what about Muff then?" my mom asked.

"That's worse," my sister said.