Linda, my next door neighbor, came to visit yesterday just as she does far too often. She can be a real pain sometimes. People in the neighborhood call her a gossip. But there was no keeping her away, so one just has to grin and bare it.

I was making a tuna-fish sandwich when she entered.

“Whatcha doin?” she boomed in her usual annoying voice.

“I’m making a sandwich.”  I didn't even try to hide my angst. “What does it look like?” With those last words, I threw my hands up in gesture and tuna-fish flew from my fork and went everywhere. “Now look what you’ve made me do.”

“Oh settle down,” she remarked as she picked some tuna from her blouse and popped it in her mouth. “What’s the big deal?”

Just then, the cat jumped up on the counter. I had already given him some tuna and most of it was still left in his bowl. He probably wanted what I had. That was his nature.

“I can’t believe you let your cat on the counter where you prepare food?” she said with disgust in her voice.

“Oh, Donald Duck is alright.”  I brushed him from the counter.

“I don’t know why you named your cat, Donald Duck. Can you explain that to me?”

“No.”  I didn’t want to get into a discussion with her, let-alone one about my cat.

“No?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. If you give your cat a name like, Donald Duck, surely you can expect people to ask why?”

“I thought it would be a funny name,” I replied with a great deal of exasperation in my voice.

“Why give him a funny name at all?”

“Because I wanted him to have a funny name.”

“But he’s a cat, not a duck.”

“That’s what makes it funny. Get it?”

“No.”

“Just forget it. His name is Donald Duck; live with it.”  I was frustrated with her questioning.

“The name, Donald, wouldn’t be funny enough for you? You had to name him Duck too?”

“Yes I did. I just had to. I couldn’t help myself. Now just leave it alone, will you.”

“Okay, okay, sheesh!” She shrugged her shoulders and mumbled under her breath, "I still don't know why anyone would give their cat a name like that. What does Donald Duck have to do with a cat anyway?"

But, of course, I heard her remark and decided to ignore it.  At that moment the cat jumped up on the table and began to screech at her as if he was very angry at something she said.

“Oh, that’s what Donald Duck has to do with this cat,” she exclaimed with laughter.

“What are you going on about?” I asked.

“His disposition.  He is ranting on, just like Donald Duck does in all those cartoons.”

“Now you get it,” I replied, though that wasn’t the reason at all. The cat was probably giving her the business because of the tuna-fish juice that had landed on her blouse. Maybe he thought she had been into his food. I named him Donald Duck for the reason I had already told her.

It's just a funny name. Don’t you agree?