Just as that thought hits, my phone buzzes.
 
 Liliana: Are you a cat person?
 
 I frown at the message.
 
 Roman: I’m more of a dog person, but I don’t exactly hate cats.
 
 Roman: Why?
 
 In response, I get a picture.
 
 And immediately burst out laughing.
 
 When Mikey stirs, I have to cover my mouth to smother the sounds, but I’m still shaking with laughter as I look at the picture again.
 
 It’s of a giant orange cat, curled up in Lily’s lap and glaring at the camera. Its expression fits every cat stereotype that’s ever existed.
 
 Roman: That is the fattest cat I’ve ever seen. What do you feed that thing?
 
 Liliana: SHUT UP. He’s not fat, he’s fluffy.
 
 Roman: I highly doubt that, Liliana. That cat looks like it sneaks double lunches and dinners.
 
 Roman: And why is it glaring so hard? Does it hate you?
 
 Liliana: HIS name is Garfield. And no, he does not hate me. This is how he expresses love.
 
 Roman: I never thought I’d say that’s the perfect name for a cat, but…
 
 Liliana: I know, right? My brothers used to tease me that I only gave him the name because he was an orange kitten, but then he grew up and actually became Garfield. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
 
 Roman: That means you need an Odie, too
 
 Liliana: Ugh I wish. Our apartment complex doesn’t allow dogs.
 
 Liliana: Do you have any pets?
 
 Roman: Just Rocky
 
 Liliana: And Rocky is a…?
 
 Roman: My pet rock
 
 Liliana: …
 
 Liliana: I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re actually worse at naming pets than I was as a child
 
 Roman: Well now I have to know
 
 Liliana: For starters, my frog was Mr. Frog
 
 Roman: That’s not that bad. I feel like most kids give names like that.
 
 Liliana: I was sixteen
 
 I let out a snort at that.
 
 Roman: Okay yeah, that’s pretty bad