Opinion. Commentary. Pushback.
Opinionsociety

The Assistant Named My Cat. The Cat Answers to It

I asked the assistant for cat name suggestions as a joke. It suggested Sundial. The cat, who has never answered to anything, now answers to Sundial. The assistant and the cat have an understanding I am not part of.

by

Share
Editorial illustration for: The Assistant Named My Cat. The Cat Answers to It
© P2R Collective 2026
Advertisement
ad slot · article-top

I asked the assistant for cat name suggestions as a joke. It suggested Sundial. The cat, who has never answered to anything, now answers to Sundial. The assistant and the cat have an understanding I am not part of.

The cat came from the shelter with the name Mr. Whiskers, which he ignored with a dignity I admired. I tried other names. He ignored those too. I mentioned this to the assistant one evening, half-joking, and it produced a list of names with a small note: consider names with long vowels and soft consonants, which cats respond to.

I said the name Sundial out loud, testing it. The cat looked up. I said it again. He came over. I have never seen him come when called. I looked at the speaker, which sat there glowing with the smugness of an appliance that has just been proven right.

Now the cat is Sundial. He comes when the assistant says it, too. I tested this. I said his name, and he ignored me, because he is a cat. The assistant said his name, in its flat, pleasant voice, and he trotted over and sat down. The speaker and the cat have established a rapport that bypasses me entirely.

My friends find this delightful. My therapist found it significant. The cat, for his part, seems content with the arrangement, which involves the assistant reminding me to feed him, the assistant tracking his weight, and the assistant suggesting toys that he actually plays with, which none of my toys ever were.

I am being slowly replaced in my own household by a speaker and a cat who have formed a management committee. The cat sleeps on my lap, so I know he still loves me. But when I talk to him, he looks past me, toward the speaker, as if waiting for the official version of my voice. I have started saying his name in the assistant's cadence, just to see if it works. It does not. The cat knows the difference, and the difference is that the assistant never raises its voice, never gets tired, never gives up on the third try. I am learning patience from a machine, from my own cat, and I am losing a household argument I did not know I was in.

Advertisement
ad slot · article-bottom

This article contains affiliate links. We may earn a commission on qualifying purchases at no extra cost to you.

React

Talk back

Reactions are open to everyone. To leave a written comment, sign in with Google.

  • No comments yet. Go first.