I would like to rectify this immediately, because she's important too.
Once upon a time, I wrote the story of how we got Poppy (from a crazy cat lady, if you can't be bothered to click the link) but I didn't really tell you too much about her.
The first thing to know about her is she belongs to that highly sought after breed, adored by furniture owners across the world, known as Perma Shedder.
An important thing to note, ladies and gents: when you are picking out your new furniture, it is a very good idea to keep in the back of your mind that you have a white cat who sheds her coat like Paris Hilton sheds men; therefore, it probably isn't advisable to get a black rug or a steel gray couch.
I'd rather not say how I came to be such a wealth of advice on this particular topic.
But really, it's not that bad. Why with the invention of the vacuum and my champion abilities to turn a blind eye to all things housework, having a cat who is a Perma Shedder is no big deal.
(Though please remind me to tell you all about the most disastrous and SHORT visit my grandparents ever paid to my apartment. My perma-shedding cat, my spastic cat, and my general dislike of housework, all swirled together to create the most perfect storm of embarrassment I've ever felt.)
Look at all those fine hairs, just waiting to embed themselves in your black cashmere or wool.
But poor Poppy is having an identity crisis in this land of Swiss-German, and it's all because her idiot guardians chose to give her a moniker that really isn't Swiss-German friendly. Though in defence of the idiot guardians (okay...guardian...I named her), they didn't realize at the time they would ever, EVER, move to Europe. Language comprehension just never factored in to the name game.
So here's the thing, everyone who comes over loves Poppy. As you can see from the above pictures she is immediately lovable. As they pet her and coo at how lovely and sweet she is, and comment on her eye colours, I am bracing myself for the question:
"Was ist Ihr name?"
"It's uh...her name is...Poppy."
"Was?! Papi? HAHAHAHA."
You see readers, Papi is what little Swiss boys and girls call their fathers. And when quickly spoken aloud, 'Poppy' and 'Papi' sound identical.
"Nay, nay, nay. Ihr name ist POP-py, nicht Papi. Auf English, 'Poppy' ist eine rote Blume."
"Was?! You named your white cat after a red flower. HAHAHAHA."
It's just a no-win situation. So then I once again try to come to Poppy's (read, 'my') defence.
"Names don't HAVE to make sense, you know. Just ask any kid whose parent has tried to be trendy and different, and so they named their kid something stupid like Starfish or Tinkle. Poppy is a good name!"
But nobody hears me, because they're too busy having a hearty laugh while they cuddle with little Father.
My poor little girl...
"Was" is the German word for 'what'. It is pronounced "V-aa-s".
I make no warranties that any of the above German dialogue is written or spelled correctly.
I also make no warranties on these here warranties.
One day I will know German....one day...
But I also make no warranties on that either.
(See the 'About' tab if you're lost on the whole 'Juice' reference)