All's Well That Ends Well

Diddums was a nonsense word. Scallywag was a nonsense word. Rapscallion was a variant of allium, and also the same idea as scallywag but with just a bit more dashing flavor to it.

If Minoth had his way, they'd be naming the cat, which had been scooped up from the street and clipped by the one ear in recognition of its erstwhile living situation, something heroic and bold, some sort of Spanish verb or noun with a well-placed accented letter that made calling the animal's name a thrilling experience each and every time.

He didn't believe in giving pets your same variety of human people names, no, but he got close.

Then there was Addam, who thought naming a cat Sweetie or Liz was appropriate. He'd also been known to approve of choices like Cookie or Gumball or Sir Purrs-A-Lot.

Well, what could Minoth say, in the face of that? He didn't want to admit how it pained him to imagine Addam butchering the inherent mystique of a name like Santo, or even Felix.

So, Diddums it was. In all, a perfectly suitable moniker for an animal that behaved rather heedlessly in all respects, and was neither courteous to nor dismissive of its owners.

Lora thought it was adorable - why wouldn't she? Rather, Haze did the thinking, and Lora did the petting.

Aegaeon found it charming, if meritorious of a little...querulous comment, while Brighid openly rolled her eyes, except that she didn't.

"Aww, Diddums," Addam would say (croon, purr), as if it was hapless (it wouldn't; it climbed up the front window curtains just fine, at all hours of the day and the night). "Have you made a new friend?"

Because, of course, Minoth was just as bemused by the cat as the cat was by him, since it wasn't of the same mind as him in any other obvious way.

For one thing, it didn't dote upon dear prince Addam, even in that cryptic only-cats-know-how way. For another, it never hissed.