“Why didn’t you give the cat a name all this time?” “Why indeed,” I puzzled. Then I lit up a cigarette with the sheep-engraved lighter. “I think I just don’t like names. Basically, I can’t see what’s wrong with calling me ‘me’ or you ‘you’ or us ‘us’ or them ‘them.’” “Hmm,” she said. “I do like the word ‘we,’ though. It has an Ice Age ring to it.” “Ice Age?” “Like ‘We go south’ or ‘We hunt mammoth’ or …”
