There is no crankier mammal on the face of this planet that a grumbly black cat with a bone to pick about her name, who was probably rescued against her will.
I’ve probably set myself up to explain a lot, but even that is really just the beginning of it, because we also forced a new kitten on “the poor thing” just as she was done settling in, so there’s that, too.
I’ll begin with the name: Her name is Neville. Yes, Neville. Three (or so) forces conspired to set a boy’s name on this once-tiny and terrified/furious kitten, and to leave it there.
Words of War 