I'm not making this up. My sister's cat, Emus, died! Now, I know some of you cat-haters don't see the tragedy in this matter. But there is a much deeper story with a practical application. I can't say that the death of Emus was especially traumatic for me. After all, I'm allergic to cats! I'm also allergic to morons, but there isn't an allergy shot to help me with that!

Who names a cat Emus? The cat originally was named Amos, but my nephew's best attempt at saying "Amos" resulted in "Emus." Thus Emus became the cat's name. But that's not the end of the story. You see, Amos or Emus, was a male cat, so we thought. Maybe that's why Amos/Emus died giving birth to kittens! The moral to this story... don't let your male cat get pregnant!

It leads me to wonder just where the breakdown was. Was Emus traumatized because of a his/her name? Did Emus feel he/she had something to prove by getting pregnant? Should this have been my ticket to fame and fortune? Would the fine folks at Ripley's Believe It or Not have featured a pregnant male cat in one of their museums? I guess I'll never know.

I think the problem started with the name. My philosophy is that the cat was socially ostracized because of the name. Thus, with a poor self image, Emus began looking for acceptance. He thought he was a male... but failed in his relationships because, well, I think you understand.

So Emus had an identity crisis... he/she wanted to be a mother but had the name of a father. Then, a night of unbridled passion resulted in Emus becoming what no father ever wants to become--a mother!

Shocked, embarrassed, and confused, Emus began to put on some weight. First he/she hid the weight from others, then blamed it on a chemical imbalance. But, finally, the truth appeared in the form of 5 kittens. Emus couldn't stand the shame... he/she had the name of a father, the physique of a mother, and was overwhelmed by the products of that one-night-stand!

Emus couldn't take it, and passed away on that cold July night when the snow piled up against the screen door of our Georgia home. (That's not true, but it makes the story sound a bit more like something from the Waltons.)

Thus, the moral of the story--don't give your kids weird names! First of all, no one can spell it. Secondly, no one can pronounce it. And thirdly, your child with the weird name will spend the remainder of his or her life explaining why you did this dastardly act.

Emus might still be alive today if he/she had been named Sylvia or Maddy. Things might have turned out better if he/she had been named a gender-neutral name like Fluffy or Roadkill. But, the perversion of the male name attached to a female cat proved to be more weight that any cat could carry!

So, choose names wisely... there's a lot riding on your decision! Think about it!