The Naming of Cats
The naming of cats is a great responsibility not to be taken lightly. Our first cat was Bob, but Bob was first named “Sugar” by me.
Sugar Bob
Sugar's the name we gave our cat.
Sweet, she was certainly that.
But once walking away,
Strange changes “she” did display.
Now, she's “Bob” when we chat.
From Bob onward, I took more care to determine gender before assigning names. It seemed prudent.
From Bob forward for many years, I took responsibility for naming our cats. I was the official household namer of cats.
In my early days of naming cats, I tended to lean toward exotic names, unusual names: Stitch, a great cat who liked walking around in the rain with his head turned to the sky; Bear, a sweety who was a favorite of Linda's; and Possum who lived to be 22 years old.
Possum Loves Linda
Possum loves Linda with all her cat love:
Sees Linda as sent from Heaven above,
But she has no leftover love for me:
To her I'm just the petite bourgeoisie.
She moves away when I enter a room.
For me she has an expression of gloom.
No joy can I discern on her visage.
My quick departure is what she wishes.
For years I've suffered this cat's attitude.
By her as a wretched creature I'm viewed.
But my old heart still has love for this cat
Even though she sees me as a big rat.
As time progressed, my choices became more mundane. I think the first mundane name was “Bill”---great cat.
I carried this responsibility for years, but finally relinquished the job to Linda…I believe I was waiting for her to become mature enough for the responsibility.
She does a great job of naming cats and seems to enjoy the task.
However, Linda’s role as the namer of cats has temporarily been interrupted by a tiny fellow who squeezed her way past other cats to make a claim on the inside of our home. She seemed to take to me pretty quickly: we both talk a lot and she seemed to like sitting on my chest as I recline in my easy chair. Linda has given me temporary license to name the youngster.
While contemplating the possible name, I remembered and reviewed T. S. Elliot’s poem, “The Naming of Cats.”
The Naming of Cats
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday
games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a
hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE
DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the
family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo, or
James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or
Bill Bailey-
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think
they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the
dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra,
Demeter-
But all of them sensible everyday
names,
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's
particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more
dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail
perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish
his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a
quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or
Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else
Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more
than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one
name left over,
And that is the name that you never
will guess;
The name that no human research can
discover-
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS,
and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound
meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the
same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt
contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the
thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular name.
Elliot seems to have truly understood the gravity of naming cats.
By the way, I named her Sarah.
enough