Destined to be a cat lady

A short list of my nicknames for Scully:
Scully-puss
Pooky puss
Pukey puss
Ms. Puss
Loud girl
Freakazoid
Little love
Scully love
Pooky love
Bear
CAT
The Kitty

Her nicknames mutate on a totally arbitrary, mostly situational basis, usually because of my mood or her attitude or something she's just done (see Pukey Puss). When I come home from work, she's Little Love. When she jumps on my face at 4am, looking for a snack, she's CAT. When she does sprints up and down the hallway, skittering on the hardwood floors, or attacks her hind foot as if it's trying to stage an escape from the tail end of her body, she's Freakazoid. Lately I've been finding her snoozing on the quilt at the foot of my roommate's bed in the morning, which makes her Traitor Cat. It's an ever-changing lexicon.

I can't imagine what it's like to have a child whose name you can't play around with all the time. But what's really scary is that I find myself talking to my friend's kids like I talk to Scully. When they toddle into places they shouldn't, I wiggle my fingers at them and whistle a couple of times, because that works with a cat. Not so much with a kid. I get lots of interesting looks from people when it happens, though. Cat lady spinsterhood, here I come.