How to convince a parent?

I'm trying to convince my mom to name my new kitten Charlie. He responds to it and it really suits him. She named him ';Gravity'; what kind of name is that? ever since i have been arguing with her and told her that he responds and she laughs in my face and says that the desicion is made. What do I do? this kitten really is a Charlie! I've tried everything and am ready and willing to do pretty much anything to get him the name that he likes and I like! AHH!How to convince a parent?
Just keep calling him Charlie as a nickname - I really don't think the cat is going to mind either way (it's more the way you say it than what you say)How to convince a parent?
I would have told you to give your mom money, but it looks like you already have!
just call him charlie,even if she doesnt.
A number of years ago now, I came to know a woman named Sally. She never let me know her age, but she was far from young. When she was a girl, she had been unbelievably beautiful, and you could still see that. She had green eyes and long, long -- ahem -- red hair, that hadn't had the ahem in her early years. She had once been married to a man whose name your mother might recognize, or your grandmother, who wrote songs both of them would recognize. He had won two academy awards. And she hung with Jimmy Durante and Phil Silvers and -- well people who are dead in a Hollywood that is dead, too.





She got divorced, fell on hard times, and by the time I met her in the mid-nineties, she was living in a cheap NYC hotel with a good address. She had heart disease; her feet were twisted with gout; she was mostly confined to bed. But she had an indomitable spirit, a rapier-sharp wit, and she had Charlie.





He was a little male cat she rescued from an abusive housekeeper in the basement of the building and brought to live with her. Charlie was a redhead, too.





And Sally doted on him, adored him. She ordered out from the deli for him: Shrimps sauteed with garlic and dripping with butter. Poached salmon. Coquilles St. Jacques. Tuna salad -- all in addition, of course, to the Fancy Feast he loved.





Charlie loved to go up to the roof at night and survey the skyline, watch for mice. Sally would hoist her small self up into her walker and go open the stairwell door for him. But when it was bedtime, she would hoist herself up again, open the door again, and call, ';Charlie?'; And from three floors above, he would answer ';Eeoww?'; ';Come to bed now, darling!'; And down the stairs Charlie would come. To bed.





You would stop to visit on a winter night, and there she would be, in bed, propped up, reading a magazine. And there Charlie would be, stretched out against her.





One night, I stopped to visit, and when I did, I noticed Charlie just didn't seem right. He was painfully thin; he was in pain. I told her he needed to go to the vet. She said she would take him the next day.





I waited a week, and then I stopped again. I figured it would be okay. But when I got there, I looked around for Charlie and I didn't see him, so I asked. Sally just tightened her lips and looked at her hands and said, ';I killed him. He had cancer. He was in pain. So I killed him.';





And we both wept. We wept and we wept and we wept, and I am crying now just remembering her cluttery room with its sick person smells, the cans of Fancy Feast and the cat food tin.





I visited Sally pretty regularly after that, not often, but maybe once every couple of weeks. She would call me, and I would go and sit and talk and watch TV with her. I spent 9/11 with her, because I knew no bomb would go off in that place and that I was safe.





She would ask me sometimes if I thought something of us went on after death. ';I saw Charlie last night. He was here. Didn't SEE him. But he was here'; she said.





I moved away, was gone for about a year, and I came back to visit. But Sally was gone. She had had a heart attack and never came back from the hospital. I went and stood in the doorway of her room. It was open. Her things were still there; the smell was still there. And the Fancy Feast cans. I left. That was 2002.





I stopped by the hotel a month ago. I went in, went up to her floor. I was just riding a memory of a love I had seen, just the best kind of sweetness between a red-headed beauty and her red-headed little cat. But when I got there, I was stunned. They had remodeled, and even her room was gone. Nothing was left to see or to smell or to remind. I felt lost. Just lost.





I opened the door to the stairwell and looked up: They looked the same: ';Charlie?'; ';Eeoww?'; ';Come on to bed, darling!';





Tell your mother that you are GOING to name your kitten Charlie, that it has great, sweet precedents and forebears.


And thank you, for Sally and for Charlie.
Sounds like you worked it out that is nice cause its not nice to be selfish and thats how it was starting to sound with a poor family pet. Anyway both names were nice. I like Cowboy charlie myself.
just call him wat u want. my ad originally named my dog kiki but i named him Bobo. it eventually rubbed off on him
Continue to call him Charlie. Tell mom Gravity is his surname and should only be used in a business situation or introducing him to someone for the 1st time. Example, ';Aunt Lulu this is our cat, Charlie Gravity.'; ';Charlie, meet Aunt Lulu, our favorite Aunt.';