It was a lull day at work and one I am extremely grateful for. I love my job so much that I appreciate the off days – the days when the boss was off. The phones still rang and the emails kept coming. I still had meetings to coordinate and documents to type. But it was quieter and I was making the most of it. I had my music player bleating out some of my favorite tunes. A cup of melting iced caramel macchiato sat on the side as I mentally reviewed to-do lists – personal and business.

It was sure a good day. I could feel it in my bones. “I need to do something to make it rock”, I thought as I opened the browser and typed  “pet adoptation” in the search engine. I had been oscillating for too long. I needed a pet and I was going to adopt a cat this evening. “Decision made” I declared aloud as I navigated to the local animal rescue site.

I clicked on the gallery of pets waiting to be adopted and filtered down to cats. “Why cats?” I asked myself. I have no answers. I suddenly felt an urge to adopt a cat. I knew I had to do it and here I was looking at possibilities. Mira, the 4 month old female tabby or Kitty, the white 5 month old male? Kermit, Daisy, Paint, Handsome, Cupcake, Rowdy, Rocket and Godiva – the names jumped in front of me. Cute names. Silly names. Appropriate names. Irrelevant names. Celebrity names. People names. Strange names.

Princess, Bella, Simba, Tinkerbell, Sugar, Leo, Pepper, Boots and more. Taking a sip of my watered down macchiato I wondered if I would choose Garfield, a black and white male cat or Bali, a ginger colored female? The choices sure seemed many and the names seemed jump out. I picked the phone with my eyes on the screen. I dialed the number on the screen and waited for the call to be answered. My heartbeat seemed to rise involuntarily. I felt clammy and tense. I felt unsure. Not a feeling I usually associated with.

“You can always go home. Anytime.” I kept repeated to myself as I stepped off the elevator and walked towards the shelter. “I must have crossed this place thousands of times” I thought as I stopped in front of rather non-descript white building with glass doors. There were multiple stickers of all color decorating the glass doors. Stickers declaring support for animal groups, stickers fighting for animal rights. Stickers with pictures of cute baby animals and celebrities with pets. “It looks colorful” I thought as I stepped in before I gave in to second thoughts.

I filled in forms and answered questions before I was led to the real-life cat galleries by a volunteer whose name tag read “Jane – Mommy of Ragdoll”. “Oh wow! It is as confusing as the online galleries I saw this morning”.  “Oh wait till you hold one of those cuties in your hands. You will fall in love with each one of them” declared Jane as she picked up a kitten and started petting it. I look around once, twice, and thrice. A 360 reconnaissance doesn’t help either. I desperately hope for divine intervention.

“Tell me about Ragdoll”, I ask Jane. “Oh! She is now 2 years old and I adopted her from here when she was around 4 months. I have been volunteering here since then. She is local tabby. Female and absolutely cute. Remind me to show you her picture when we get back to desk.” I saw her face light up, as the words poured from her mouth. “How did you name her?” I asked the question haunting me. The question troubling me. Naming a pet was a major job. Bigger than emptying litter boxes. And I am sure I will mess it up.

I am sure no prospective pet parent asked Jane that question. Her face said so. She looked bemused. “Oh! It was a rainy day and she looked like something the cat had dragged in and Ragdoll seemed to be a perfect fit. Don’t worry about the name. You can change it” Jane said as she handed me the tiny ball of fur in her arms. Green eyes starred at me in wonder as my hands involuntarily began stroking the soft fur. “We call him Benson. He is 5 months old, a ginger white male. Energetic and total fun. You will love him” informed Jane reading off the tag on Benson’s neck.

“I will take him” I declared before I had a chance to change my mind. In a few hours I was sharing my favorite spot on the couch with my first ever pet and debating what his name should be. “No longer Benson” I announced. “What should I name you? Are you Hamlet or Sam or Josh? Spot or Choco or Mac?” I pondered. “I promise I will not name you after my exes like I was. You will not be a namesake. You will have your own special name. Soon. Very soon” I declared looking at the cuddled up ball on my lap with contentment.

This post is a part of the April A to Z challenge. 26 days, 26 letters and 26 short stories. Come back tomorrow for more.