Her name is Kimchi. My mother picked that name. I wanted to name her Christmas, because we found her at Christmas time, 2007, and she was pretty much the best present ever. Plus also*, I really just wanted to be able to sing that song from The Grinch year round: "Where are you Christmas? Why can't I find you?" See. Perfect. But mom said no and named her Kimchi instead because I was getting ready to go to Korea. Since her arrival on our back deck, she has taken it upon herself to be everything you wish for in a feline companion. Except for when she scratches the furniture with her claws (she still gets to play outside!) or when she pees not quite all the way inside the litter box. Or she sleeps on your face.
She has acquired a number of nicknames and is hardly called just plain Kimchi anymore. Except when I Skype with the mumsie and she holds her up to the screen and I call her name, "Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim- chaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeee." She loves it, I promise. The mumsie, not so much. She has wooed every cat-hater that has entered our house, including The DaddyO. They're BFFs.
And while Kenny and I stayed in America with Kimchi, she wooed him as well. And now we get to have Miso and Bo! All because Kimmers is the most freaking awesome cat in the world. Don't argue with me on this. It's irrefutable. I mean, your cat is probably great, but it's not Kimmy. Plus also, she is prettier than any other cat. See?
*A little too much Junie B. Jones. Thank you Barbara Park for writing books that make me laugh so hard I cry.
