I'm inside the foyer of a home I previously lived in, and somehow I have acquired a device that creates objects (think of Star Trek's food synthesizer). It looks no different than a regular bathroom scale - black, square, with a smooth glass top and a single button.
I set it down carefully on the floor and every time I push the button, an object appears. I do this several times but it's always some useless thing, like a DVD or VHS player. Someone unseen explains that the "scale" needs to be given direction, something to work with.
I go into the kitchen and open the freezer. I pull out the preserved remains of a beloved black cat, named Marie, who had died back in 2014. Part of the remains are also in a small bag of ashes. I put everything on the scale and kneel down reverently. I push the button, being as still as possible and concentrating as hard as I can on remembering Marie as she was in life. But commotion outside ruins my concentration and I lose my balance a bit.
A male dog pops into existence on the scale. It's a strange little mutt: it has medium length fur and floppy ears. Its body is white with black speckles, but it's head is two distinct colors - The left half is white, the right side is black.
"Oh, woops," is all I can say, alarmed that my beautiful cat has reincarnated into the body of a mangy dog. Did the vets get the wrong ashes when she was cremated?! Someone behind me is looking over my shoulder. "Yeah, you've got to be real quiet and still during that procedure. It's a very delicate thing." How helpful!
I want to be upset, but Marie-dog is happy to here and immediately comes to my side. I sigh, and suppose that if Marie-dog is okay with it, I'm okay with it.
We walk out of the foyer together. "I guess now you'll need a boy's name," I tell the dog. "What's the masculine of Marie? Mario? Marius?"
"That works," says the person behind me.