The Way of Cats

How many nicknames does our cat have? The human tendency towards nicknames is especially prominent with cats, who respond so much to our voices. Cats will recognize any number of variations on their name, or even something we use as a fond description.

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RJ has accumulated an impressive number. Within a few hours, his official name of Reverend Jim was shortened to RJ, and for the first week, reflecting his police history, he was “The Fugitive.” We referred to him as “Tiny Guy,” until he grew out of it, and into “Fluffy Muffin” and “Munchkin.” He is “Monster Paws” for his big feet, and “Mr. Serious” evolved into “Mr. Happy Tail” as he became more secure.

When we talk to Mr. Bond about him, he is “Little Buddy,” and now that he’s found his voice, we call him “Trill Boy” after the distinctive Maine Coon voice he’s using more and more. He knows all of them, just as James Bond not only responds to “Mr. Bond” and “Jamesy,” which are direct variations on his name, but also “Bundle of Boy,” “The Supervisor,” and “Ming,” which is what he says to call me.

Puffy is “Dim of the Yard,” since we are Monty Python fans, and also “Puffernickel,” “Smokus Pokus,” because he disappears so easily, and “Wumpit,” because he is one. T. S. Eliot wrote a famous poem, The Naming of Cats, which mentions only the three most important names. Cats can accommodate far more.

I once fell into conversation with a woman who confided that her current cat, after several years, was still not affectionate or interested in spending time with the family. After some questions, it turned out they had gotten this cat because she looked so much like their beloved cat who had just died. Of course, the new cat was not the old cat, and it seemed to me that the family was not interested in embracing the real cat. I asked, “What did you name her?”

“Kitty,” the woman said, and had the grace to blush. “I guess she knows we didn’t care enough to give her a real name.”

“Well, that is how you felt, and that is how she responded. No mystery there. Think of a name that celebrates her, and then she’ll respond, and you’ll respond, and you can stop feeling guilty.”

“I do feel guilty that we don’t like her as much as the old cat.”

“She can only be herself,” I said. “But you owe her a chance.”

I don’t know how the situation worked out. But not bothering to come up with a special name communicates a lack of interest, and also a lack of recognition of the uniqueness of each individual, whether human or feline. Abundant nicknames is one of those things the thoughtful cat person will provide, along with the food and water.

Because cats love all their names.

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Cats know their names. They will even come to their names; when we call them only for good things.

Here is RJ, responding to his name. Of course he knows his name. He knows all his nicknames, too.

He also knows to come into the bedroom when it’s breakfast time, which is an even more sophisticated task. Early on, we knew what he wanted when he bounced onto the foot of the bed, but we are working on his communication, so we pretended we didn’t. We asked him if there was something he wanted to tell us.

This stymied RJ momentarily, and he looked out the bedroom door, to the hall, where Mr. Bond was lurking. Like the parent of a preschooler on Halloween night, Mr. Bond was making sure the message got through. This is a cooperative task between two cats, which is an even higher level of planning and strategy.

When we see this obvious evidence of intelligence, it might seem puzzling that cats don’t come when they are called. But it doesn’t mean they don’t know their names.

Cats don’t come when they are called if they don’t know what will happen if they do.

Cats have a constantly consulted database in their heads that they build their whole lives. Once an entry has gotten into the database, such as, I came when I heard my name called and they crammed this pill down my throat, this entry, with its bad connotations, will come up first. It takes many, many entries like, I came when I heard my name called and got a fishy treat! to make up for it.

Before we can even start any new entries in the cat database, we have to get the cat to come when called again. Good luck with that.

Unlike dogs, cats have no hierarchy of leadership, or compulsion to obey. That is why their name behavior is so different from dogs. Maybe outside, off-leash, or when they know it’s bathtime, maybe then dogs will pretend they didn’t hear us. But in the house, dogs always come, because that is their nature.

It is not in the cat’s nature. They have the cat database, with a constant reminder of what might have happened when they are called. Even if the answer, from the cat’s point of view, is nothing, that is not a sufficient reward for dislodging themselves from a lovely nap or tearing themselves away from a window. If they have any bad memories of coming when their name is called, that is a trigger for avoidance.

So don’t trick them to their detriment. They will remember. It’s okay to confuse them, or get them to think, or make them realize something new, if they get a reward of some sort for it. But we cannot use their names, their special many names, to do anything they wouldn’t want.

That would be a betrayal.

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It is not only important what we name the cat, which will have an impact on our relationship. Sometimes, it can be a great help to pick the name before we look for the cat. It requires the ability to look at a little furry face and realize it is not Roger or Violet or Inspector Gadget or whatever name we feel is The One for our future cat.

Dear Husband and I’s first kitten together was Ordell. We are both Samuel L. Jackson fans, and were fond of his performance as the gun dealer, Ordell Robie, in the movie Jackie Brown. So when I asked if he had any kitten preferences, he said, “Just get one we can name Ordell.”

So I did.

It was not immediately apparent that it might not be a good idea, in our particular situation, to have a kitten named after a psychotic criminal. Oh, it’s not that he wasn’t sweet. He was adorable and affectionate. But, as he grew long long legs, enough to get him the nickname of “The Muppet,” he was getting more and more energetic.

We tried to play him into the ground, but he’d take it all and come back for more. This was a difficulty.

Dear Husband has a chronic illness, with exhaustion and sleep disruptions as a constant companion. We didn’t have the room for Ordell to really burn down that energy. So we reluctantly found him another home, where he was going to be fostered until he calmed down.

That was seven years ago. We still visit, and get updates and pictures. But he never did calm down. He still leaps from the center of his cat person’s stairs, to snag the drapes over the entrance, swinging Tarzan-style into the middle of the room, to drop with a thud.

This is the kind of thing we are not able to provide, and he needs it. His new person is much better situated to give him what he needs.

That’s what love is.

So when Dear Husband brought up getting a kitten again, he said, “I know it was my fault. I sent you after an Ordell and you got an Ordell. So this time… could you pick out a Reverend Jim?”

Those who fondly remember Christopher Lloyd’s performance as the “embodiment of the ’60’s” character on Taxi, Reverend Jim, will immediately recognize the kind of personality I was looking for; mellow, a bit goofy, but with a heart of gold. And RJ not only has those traits, he has something extra.

Reverend Jim, on the television series, was constantly befuddled by the world around him.

Having spent decades in a drug haze, the demands of the 1980’s often gave him a completely flummoxed expression. Which we have seen on RJ’s face many times; when he realizes the food dish is always refilled, when he beheld our fancy litter box, when he jumps onto our chair and we make a lap for him to curl up and get cuddling. Whatever happened to him was bad enough for the police to remove him and hold him as evidence, and then he spent we don’t know how many months in cages, by himself.

When he arrived, we had to teach him how to play.

He has bounced back wonderfully. But I hope he never loses his version of Reverend Jim’s face; that wide eyed look of wonder that these great things are for him; and he never expected it.

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