“When I first got Fluffles, he would come whenever I called,” she said tearfully. “But now, my poor Admiral Fluffington doesn’t even know who he is anymore. He spends all his time wandering aimlessly around my apartment, a shell of the psychopathic kitten once was. He doesn’t even like spontaneously biting me in my sleep now.”
“We see this a lot in felines, unfortunately,” explained veterinarian Catherine Greenwood, who has looked after Fluffernut Squash The Third Earl of Fluffex And Grand High Sheriff Of Fluffingham his entire life. “As the years go on and the names build up, the cat will begin to lose any and all sense of who they are. It gets worse as the names pile up. The only cure is for the owner to stop coming up with more and more adorable nicknames. So it’s usually quite hopeless. Poor Fuzzyberry.”
Harding’s father Dave said he wasn’t surprised to hear the news.
“I’ve never known her cat’s name,” he huffed. “I lost count after the tenth version. The names don’t even make sense- what the heck is it supposed to think when you call it ‘Noodle Pants?’ Hell, my cat doesn’t even have have a name. I call it ‘Cat’. It knows exactly who it is.”
At press time, Mr. Floofy Poofy Pants was observed staring at his reflection in a mirror, desperately seeking a glimpse of his true self and wondering if chasing the red laser dot ever even mattered to him at all.