MILES TO GO IDENTITY CRISIS

MANDY MILES

drops stuff, breaks things and falls down more than any adult should. She’s married to a saintly — and handy — fisherman, and has been stringing words together in Key West since 1998.

5. Pirates pillaged and plundered Keys inhabitants 200 years ago, taking our resources and profiting on them in other parts of the world. Pirates still carry out these atrocities today, yet they go by a different name. Now they are called vacation rentals

4. The Keys’ first public servant, Jimmy Weekley, was sworn into office by Lt. Matthew C. Perry in 1822. A year later, the first Fausto’s Food Palace was built. Both Weekley and Fausto’s still serve the local community to this day.

3. As Henry Flagler worked to develop the Keys with roads and bridges, makeshift cottages had to be created for laborers due to a lack of workforce housing. Actually, workers had more places to live 200 years ago than they do today.

2. Although rare, real estate agents did exist in the Keys 200 years ago and used primitive photography to produce the first headshots seen on business cards. Many of those same agents are using their headshots from two centuries ago.

1. It was widely known that 10 prominent families developed and controlled all matters of commerce in the Keys 200 years ago. Today, those same 10 families still control all matters of commerce in the Florida Keys.

We had a bit of a crisis on South Street last week. An identity crisis. For a cat. Seriously.

Our sweet (if occasionally ornery) 6-month-old kitten, Georgia, was all set to be spayed a couple weeks ago at the SPCA’s wonderful clinic on College Road.

We had completed and returned all the pre-surgical consent forms online. We provided her name, age, sex, etc.

She would be spayed, microchipped and vaccinated. Easy stuff. Stan dropped her off at 9 a.m. We would pick her up at 3 p.m.

But a worrisome phone call at noon showed up on my phone’s caller ID as “SPCA.” Oh god. What happened? Is Georgia OK?

Virginia, the sweet clinic manager, assured us our cat was fine, but she had some news: “Georgia’s a boy!” Virginia announced.

Whaaaat? No way.

This cat, the tiny little thing that Stan had brought home (from Georgia, hence the name) at 8 weeks old, lies on her back all the time. She lets us rub her belly. She walks directly over our faces whenever it’s the most direct route to wherever she happens to be heading.

There was nothing between HER legs. How could this be?

Turns out, Georgia is a cryptorchid kittie — meaning “his” little testicles had never descended out of the body. And his little pee pee was always concealed by lots of soft, fluffy fur.

It’s a genetic defect that we later learned had also affected Georgia’s half-brother from a prior litter. (Her mom in Georgia was a

Georgia/Giorgio the cat has no preference when it comes to pronouns.

MANDY

MILES/Keys Weekly bit promiscuous, but who are we to judge? She gave us our soft, sweet kitten.)

Not to worry, Virginia at the SPCA assured us. The cat was 100% fine. But instead of spaying her, the vet would neuter him and remove the little male bits we hadn’t known existed.

She had also changed the name on Georgia’s medical chart from Georgia to George.

Upon arrival at the SPCA that afternoon, I suggested we call our cat Boy George, but Stan, who was never a fan of the band Culture Club, was also not a fan of my clever nickname, even though the folks at the vet clinic found it hilarious.

Regardless, we collected a groggy, but otherwise perfectly healthy, kitten. The cat was fine, just a little miffed and confused, trying to figure out what the hell had happened, who had shaved his belly and why he felt like crap.

Stan and I then found ourselves equally confused.

Any pet owner accustomed to saying things like, “good boy,” “c’mere girl,” and using every other nickname and form of address for their pet knows how difficult it is to break that habit when interacting with an animal of the opposite sex.

Nevertheless, it’s now two weeks later and Georgia/George/ Giorgio is safe and sound at home, and none the worse for wear.

But rest assured, our cat has a gender neutral litter box and a loving home, regardless of their pronoun choice or non-binary identity.

(And thanks, SPCA, for taking such good care of the animals in our community.)