I have a conundrum.
My pet cat’s name is Conundrum. If the name seems funny, it is because it is…and isn’t. I like the name, and the word actually officially means something like a question or problem that is difficult or confusing, or both, or all of those at the same time. So it’s not really funny.
It’s just my cat.
The thing is, it’s not really my cat. And that’s a conundrum all by itself. It’s just a cat and I’m not sure it—actually, he—belongs to anyone, but he stops by for a visit now and then to ask for a little food, and some petting, and some ear scratching, and a place for a nap, and some more food, and basically just attention, like we all need. Especially ear scratching. And a place for a nap. He doesn’t have a collar with a nametag because who likes collars?—not me—but he probably should have one. In my village, pets don’t have collars, but it would help people know whose pet it is, and in this case, not having an identifying collar—the cat, not me—means the conundrum is even more conundrummy, which hurts my mouth to say.
Does it matter whose cat he is? I wonder that sometimes, but then I think as long as he’s good with the situation, I should be. He gets attention, ear scratching, and some food when he wants. Seems like a pretty good life for a cat…or anyone. Hmmm…
Maybe I should follow Conundrum and see where he goes. I think I will.
