By: Sarah Kovash

Most people remember my cat, not only because she’s quite rotten, but also because she has a stupid name.

I hate when people ask me what her name is, because I usually feel like an idiot and feel compelled to prove that I’m not a mindless simpleton by telling the whole story of how it came to be.

When I was in college, I came home to find a tiny gray pouf locked in my bathroom. It turned out my stepmom had found a little, gray kitten under the car hood when she was getting ready to leave work. Fortunately, she had heard its tiny squeak of a meow before turning on the car and after pulling it out, it was clear the only thing to do was bring it home.

(Photo Credit: Sarah Kovash)

(Photo Credit: Sarah Kovash)

This scrappy-looking kitten with matted fur was so small that it kept getting lost in small crevices of the house that we didn’t even know existed. So the best solution was to lock it up in the bathroom where it wouldn’t have many places to hide.

After taking her to the vet, it turned out that this kitten you could balance in the palm of your hand weighed less than a pound.

So, it then somehow became my responsibility to take care of this little thing and I kept it locked in my room for fear it would get lost. Now, since I am the girl who squeals with delight anytime some tiny and fluffy thing passes my way, I got in the habit of saying “what a cute baby kitty!” (Kitty was always over pronounced as kitt-tee).

And since my stepmom maintained that the cat was hers and she would be the one to name it, I continued to call it the little, baby kitty for a month while I trained it to use a litter box, washed it and took care of it.

However, it eventually became clear that the cat took to me and was my baby, so I was given the overdue task of naming it. And since I had never called it anything else, I have just continued to call her Baby Kitty, which has led to constant eye-rolling.

It’s especially awkward now, because the once cute, tiny pouf has since become a giant, hairy beast more akin to a small bear. But no matter how fat and terrible she becomes, she’s always my little, baby kitty.

You can follow Sarah Kovash on Twitter at @SarahtheKovash. If you’d like to check out more features by Sarah, check out her You Need to Eat This food blog!

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