How Georgie Mewler Got His Name

We've got this kitten. His name is Georgie. He actually belongs to Dumpling, though she's happy to share him with everyone. That means that the kitten belongs to her when it is time to feed or cuddle him, but Fifi can have him when he needs a little...ouch!...recreation.

Her poor hands look like death by one hundred cuts.

The other day Fifi suggested we should call him, "Georgie Mewler! You know, Mommy...after George Muller, the missionary?" (Pronounced myeuh-ler, or often ignoring the umlaut to say mule-er.)

"Oh, yes. That's cute. Georgie Mew-er?"

"No. Mewl-er. Because of the sound that he makes."

"Yes. But it's called...mewing." (I know this because I have loved and had cats since I was her age.)

*apprehensively* "No...I think it's mewl."

"You do?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure."

"O.k. Go get a dictionary."

And the race was on. We dropped everything, she bounded like a deer whose flight is beautiful to behold but is going to do you great bodily harm if you get in her way--to our library--and brought back the 50 year old dictionary.

And there it is. Mewl. Mew is there too, and probably more specifically correct. But for the sake of the pun, mewl works, and it works better.

Again, this girl has left her father and me in the dust. She's taking her victory lap around the house as we call after her, "How did you know that?"

"I don't know! I just read it somewhere."

(Thank you, Charlotte Mason.)