Red Riding Hood wrapped it in a blanket, and we all sat around in the sunshine. Apparently the others also were not satisfied, because we began suggesting names for the cat. Nobody would agree on one. I hadn't made any suggestions yet, but I finally said,"We should name it North!" Everybody agreed instantly, except for Thumbelina who insisted on calling it "Roseshine." The name fit perfectly. This cat could not be named anything else. It was North. You could call it anything else you want, but that wouldn't change its name, because it was North. Its middle name was Star, North Star in the full, but that doesn't really matter because we wouldn't call it North Star. It was North.
We only had it for two hours. After that our parents didn't want to keep it and we had to give it back. At the farm, it wouldn't be called North. It would disappear back into its family of nameless creatures. No other cat we would get could be named North, because North was the only North. That name would also disappear. It would go to that empty black hole, somewhere in Forgotten Land and whirl forever in loneliness amid all the other lost names that have ever been wasted since the beginning of time.
I've been writing this post over the coarse of a few weeks. Frog Prince and I were stacking straw last Friday. The lady who dropped us off at our house was the owner of the cat, but she didn't want it anymore. We still couldn't keep it though because the Fair Queen is allergic to cats, so we sent an email to the homeschoolers, and one family came to take it.
