A year or two ago, I created a Facebook account for my mother’s cat.
(a) It was funny at the time. (b) My mother could use it to follow me and my brother’s goings-on without the embarrassment of having a Facebook account of her own. (c ) Donna and I may have been drunk.
By the time I got around to handing it over, my mother had sensibly decided that she’d probably rather not know what Nick and I were up to on Facebook after all.
Not long after that I forgot the account password. I also forgot the date of birth I used to register the account, which is necessary to recover the password.
As a result of this, every week or so, Facebook sends me a helpful email suggesting other cats I may be interested in pursuing an Internet friendship with.