-- 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, 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.
Wonderful!
That is so true of the cat’s secret name. But we had one and I think we finally discovered his true name. It was Norman. He had previously been Night-rate, Nixon, and some others.
I do love Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, from which your poem is quoted.
I call my cat Kisa, which is Russian for Kitty, or so I am told. I know that cats love to be called names that begin with the K sound and end with the Y sound. But what my cat calls herself, I haven’t a clue.
I do use the name of a cat in Eliot’s book as part of my e-mail user name as my personality is very like that particular cat.
Before anyone jumps to conclusions, No, I am not a crazy cat lady. I just have the one or perhaps it is vice versa. She was a comfort to me in the time of grief and I appreciate her for that.
Friends: “Do you like X, the musical?”
Me: “I have seen many musicals and only like one: CATS.”
Friends: “Why that’s absurd!”
Me: “No it isn’t. CATS is T.S. Eliot.”