Jane

(Thanks to my colleague Huntington Sharp, whose recent blog post got me thinking of names: I may never be responsible for the naming of a person, but I take the naming of cats very seriously.)

Loving a person can be difficult, but loving animals is easy. In the several years that my ex and I were together, my feelings for the man grew complicated (as our feelings for people tend to do). But my simple adoration of his cat only intensified as time passed. The cat was a black Devon Rex, a breed that has very short, slightly wavy fur. Many people with cat allergies (such as my ex) say they can be around Devons and experience little irritation. Devons' coats are also especially soft--this is a recommendable quality in a cat, to be sure.

His (the cat's) name was Gatsby, a name I didn't like much. I don't think my ex had really paid attention to the book if he'd read it--I had to explain to him once that the titular use of "Great" was meant to be sort of ironic, as things turned out, you know, in the story. He (the ex) didn't like to read, though he would read non-fiction sometimes: a book about Watergate, say, or The Economist. He chose the name "Gatsby" strictly for the sound of it, I think--and I admit that in this regard, it's a pretty good name for a cat.

At any rate, we almost never referred to Gatsby by that name. He was Kitty-Witty; or KW; or K-Dub; or "Mr. Witowski, the Cuddly Curmudgeon," depending on our mood (and on the particular way we were anthropomorphizing him at a given moment). He had a small frame but a slightly bulbous belly, and he had bald patches under his chin and on the back of his head, where his delicate soft coat had been "petted away." I sometimes referred to him as the Velveteen Kitty. In my experience, T.S. Eliot is right about cats needing a "fancy" name and a "daily" name. As to their secret names--well, who can say?

Kitty-Witty was an extremely mellow, gentle creature. He was a snuggly lap cat. His meows always sounded mildly displeased. Perhaps because I often feel mildly displeased, I found this incredibly endearing. I loved that cat! Kitty-Witty's death from cancer was a terrible blow to both me and my then-boyfriend. Oh, Kitty-Witty. I miss him.

For a long time after my ex and I had broken up, I thought that we would reconcile. So when I decided, not too long after the breakup, that I wanted to get another cat, I located a Devon Rex breeder--a gregarious, no-nonsense cat fancier who raises her Devon Rexes for shows but spays or neuters "non-show-quality" kittens and sells them as pets--and got on her waiting list. She let me know that it would be several months before a kitten was available. (I know. I know! I am not a "breed" sort of person, truly, but I had loved Kitty-Witty so, and I wanted to be prepared to take the allergic ex back, you see. I made a guilt donation to the SPCA.)

Then a whole lot of stuff happened, it became clear that the ex was never coming back to me, and I sort of forgot that I was on a waiting list for a kitten. When the breeder emailed, I almost declined the kitten that was suddenly waiting for me. She (the breeder) said she hadn't expected to have a kitten for me in her current litter: there were two people ahead of me on the waiting list. But she had judged one too "flaky" to be trusted with a kitten, and the other had turned down this kitten, a runt, because she (the kitten) was very small and a bit gawky. The breeder assured me, however, that this kitten had a "delightful, feisty" personality despite being tiny and having a "drab" coat that would prevent her from being cat-show material.

So how could I say no? I spent the weeks before I retrieved my tiny new companion thinking of names for her. And of course, I turned to literature (after considering some Greek goddesses and a muse or two). It didn't take me long to come to the perfect name. You may have already thought of it, too: a small, "drab," unwanted girl with a feisty personality? Clearly, this cat was the feline embodiment of Jane Eyre (one of my favorite heroines of the classics). Plus, every Jane I have known personally has been pretty cool. And there are even a couple of good songs about Janes.

So my cat's registered name is Jane Eyre Purdy. (I know. I know! But she is descended from grand-champion cats. She needs an impressive name.)

The name suits. Jane is nothing like Kitty-Witty. She's no lap cat (though she does enjoy a good cuddle). She is feisty. She likes to play fetch. She is mercurially moody. Unlike with Kitty-Witty, I don't anthropomorphize Jane much. She is just too catlike! She's still a very small cat, but I think her "drab" coat is beautiful--she's sort of a champagne color, with ash points. She occasionally bites the hand that feeds her. I respect and understand that, and I love her like crazy.

She knows her "fancy" name, Jane, but she thinks it means "food." It's what I shout when dinner is ready. But other than that, I use it only when I talk about her. When I talk to her, I usually call her Poopers.

"Poops" for short.