Poem for Friday

The Naming of Cats
By T.S. Eliot

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, or 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

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The only notabale event of my Thursday was picking up our kitten, who is going to stay "Daisy" after all...it's on all her papers and I was calling her that for the half hour I spent talking to the foster mother, and then Adam came home from school and was calling her "Daisy" too even though "Autumn" was his suggestion for a name, and Daniel agreed that she should stay "Daisy," so Daisy it is! Although she has had all her shots and has been treated as a precaution for worms, ear mites, etc., the foster mom suggested keeping her apart from our cats for a week...which worked for, oh, maybe three hours, until Cinnamon discovered that she can jump the baby gate we had up in the bedroom doorway.

However, Cinnamon's reaction to meeting Daisy was to mewl pathetically, back into a corner and then flee the room! She has been hiding down the basement for most of the evening and the one time we carried her up for a proper introduction, she acted like a big scaredy cat. I don't know whether this is because Daisy is currently residing in my bedroom, which is Cinnamon's domain for most of the day, or if Daisy smells funny to her because of the spay sutures or what. Rosie reacted much more to form...ignoring Daisy entirely until she discovered that Daisy gets rich kitten food, then trying to hiss and take over the food dish, but Daisy was not in the least intimidated! She spent most of the afternoon chasing a long lanyard-type cat pesker before falling asleep in the middle of the carpet, ignoring the cat bed. Figures. *g*









Otherwise, I wrote up a fun interview with Nichelle Nichols and an article about how J.J. Abrams is blowing off his obligations to Warner Bros TV to make Star Trek, and watched the nearly unwatchable "Conspiracy" so I can review it tomorrow (for the third day in a row, editor has asked me to write up a Suzie Plakson interview that says the same thing she said to me in person at Shore Leave plus some new hype for her "maybe I can get Trekkies to buy my vanity CD too!" and for the third day in a row I have said "You must be joking, I had two real articles to write"). Did I mention that I dreamed two nights ago that I was interviewing Zachary Quinto and he got a phone call that Leonard Nimoy had died and we were hugging each other and sobbing? I am sure this says something about transferring my affections from the old cast to the new...