Call Them Ann

My last post was pretty somber, but now I promise to get back to something lighter.  We were at a memorial service a couple of weeks ago (yeah; no, that’s not the lighter part).   People said such lovely things about our friend and the legacy he leaves behind.  It started me thinking about my legacy, or rather about the fact that as of now, I don't really have one.

What would I like to be remembered by?  You know how some people have juniors, so their names live on after them?  Presidents get libraries.  Wealthy people set up endowments in their names to the arts or sciences, to medical schools or scholarship funds.  We didn’t want a junior, and I don’t have a butt-load of money, so when I’m dead and departed, but I have decided on what I want it to be. 

 

When I'm dead, I want all of you to name your cats after me, Ann.  Or if they’re boy cats, you can spell it An; that will work.  I can hear it now: “Here, Annie, Annie, Annie!  Come kitty, kitty!”  Dogs, too.  When you whistle and clap, you will shout, “C’mere, An!  C’mere, boy!  Good dog!”

Not birds, though; I’m not fond of domesticated birds.  And not hamsters or guinea pigs.  I don't want any rodent namesakes.  But cats ?  Dogs?  Ponies?  Name them Ann.   

All those furry legs running to the kitchen for food, and all the cuddling and petting, all the patting and grooming.  I can hear the whispers in the evenings, “Oh, Ann, I love you so.”  Yeah, that’s the ticket.

My legacy will be my name floating on the air, across neighborhoods, cities, countries!  I can hear it now, “Ann” on the breeze called protectively with love.  In fact, why wait?  You may as well begin now.  Name them Ann; name them all Ann!

I wonder if it’s too late to rename Wumpus?