They may be out there, but I've never seen a book called "999 Names For Your Cat." Without such an indispensable reference, how is one to go about doing the job right? For us, choosing cats' names has been anything but sterile. There's usually a twist of some sort that makes the process more "art" than science. Since 30-plus years of experience can't possibly be condensed to a single column, I might illustrate with one name of particular singularity: "Not Abraham." I'm SURE you want to know more.
We once had a beautiful, gray Russian Blue whom we named after a person who also had a gray coat: Confederate general Robert E. Lee. When our next cat (very black and fluffy) needed a name, the Civil War era came to the rescue again. Abraham Lincoln — Abraham, for short — was the obvious choice. Why, you ask? Because Honest Abe himself often wore black! See the logic?
Shortly after his dubbing, Abraham came up missing, and a diligent search was launched. The neighborhood was peppered with "missing cat" notices, and all leads were thoroughly investigated. Dead-ends, every one. A newspaper ad even provided an additional but critical detail: "Answers to 'Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!'" More calls and more blind alleys. Abraham was hopelessly lost.
When one last call reported another likely suspect, hope was rekindled. We sped there to find Abraham romping in the street! Since "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty" brought him right to us, we knew that Abraham had at last been found. He happily returned home and was soon up to his old tricks.
We did notice a few minor variations in behavior. Before his disappearance, Abraham would fearlessly jump onto the back of a Goliath-size Robert. Now, he was a bit more cautious — more street-wise, we assumed. Perhaps he had learned "survival of the biggest" the hard way.
Within a few days, both Abraham and Robert came down with respiratory infections and had to go to the vet. Since Abraham had been neutered shortly before his escape, my wife asked the vet to make sure the surgery had healed properly. Abraham was dutifully flipped over and studied. A puzzled look crept over the vet's face: "This is NOT Abraham! This isn't a boy; it's a girl!"
It happened just that way. Honest. In no more than a heartbeat, Abraham became Not Abraham, who was thereafter usually called "Not" for short.
Why would I take the time to write about something as trivial as a cat's name? Because such incidentals have a way of building ties that bind. Long after the details of vacations and grand adventures have been forgotten, simple times of laughing together as a family will endure. Cat names have brought us many unexpected fits of laughter … and not a few fishy looks from the uninitiated!
We still enjoy telling about Not Abraham. Or, more properly, Not Abraham Lincoln.
Copyright 1999 James McAlister
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