I wanted a black kitten, got a pair of black-and-white cats, named 'em Mix and Match.
Match was no match for the motorbike
but Mix lived to a ripe age.
We shared a house with a chap named his kittens Staph and Strep, so when a scrawny stray appeared I named him Myc (O'Plasma.) He turned out to be a marvellous gorgeous loving Maine Coon, unfortunately Match and he hated each other so I found him a wonderful home with someone who really loved him. (And called him Mike.)
A visitor arrived with a ginger kitten out of the blue. Tiger was too boring so I named him Trigger. He was a lot of fun but got Key-Gaskell syndrome so I had to have him put out of his misery
Aynoch and Ayli (being Enoch and Eli, the heros of many a Black Country joke) followed, but traffic claimed them both.
A friend wanted me to take her cat, who didn't seem to know his name was Merlin so I named him Hacker. Sadly he and Mix never became friends. Eventually the friend's circumstances changed and she asked for him back. (And called him Merlin again.)
A new pair of kittens were named Farley and Brendon, after favourite places. Brendon was shot dead aged 4.
When I could face getting a new cat, Jacob arrived. (Farley's rusks and Jacob's Crackers
) Jacob was shot too, but survived, and lived to a good age.
No cats now, have to cuddle other people's when I get a chance. Like a grandma with no grandchildren