The naming of a cat...

“Hello!! My name is Possum. Or, at least, I think it is. The elegant lady keeps calling me Possum, or Sweetie; very confusing, because she calls the gentleman ‘Sweetie’, too. Catwoman called me ‘Port’ and ‘Guinness'. Nobody calls me ‘Midnight’.

It is a beautiful sunny day and I’m outside with the elegant Lady, the gentle man and Catwoman. I think they’re discussing something serious. Catwoman brought a version of ‘Old Possums book of practicle Cats’. ‘It’s time he gets a proper name’, she says. ‘I agree. ‘Midnight’ is not a great name for him.’

Ah, so that’s what this is all about. Possum is not my name either, nor Sweetie.

The ladies open the book and start reading ‘the naming of cats’. Then they recite in unison a poem about Macavity. Apparently he’s not there. He’s also ginger, so that’s not going to be my name. I’m starting to think that this a holy book for humans, about the naming of a cat. I’m deeply impressed.

‘What about Mr Mistoffelees? He’s black!’ The elegant lady likes the name except for the fact that it’s a name of a demon. ‘I’m not going to name my cat after demon,’ she says. Catwoman disagrees. ‘It’s a great name. He black and naughty. A demon’s name is totally appropriate’, she says while giving me a ruffle.

What about ‘Lucifer?’

Elegant lady, ‘No’

Catwoman, ‘Beelzebub? Bulby for short.’

‘No’

Demonspawn?

‘No!!!’

‘Hellboy?Faust! Yes, you’re a Faust, aren’t you’, she says while I’m purring away under her lovely touch. I feel rather seduced by this Catwoman.

The elegant lady is fed up now. ‘No, I am not going to name him after a demon!! He is NOT naughty. He has a lovely character.’

‘Ok, ok, what about Stout’ says Catwoman, while giving me another cuddle. You know, or Guinness. Or PORT! Port is a great name for a black cat!’

‘No. I’m not giving my cat an alcoholic name either.’

I am wondering now. Do demons and alcohol have something in common?

‘Maybe I should call him TOFKAM,’ sighs the elegant lady. ‘Tofkam??’ The other two aren’t convinced. ‘Yes, ‘The Cat Formerly Known As Midnight’. The gentleman thinks it will become ‘Toffee’ for short, and that is the wrong type of colour.

What about Ananda? It means ‘bliss’. ‘Are you an Ananda, Sweety?’ she asks me. Uh, am I an Annawhatta? Anawaddawadda? No way! I can see she looks dejected, so I give her a little nudge on the chin. She strokes me and notices that I’m a really good smoocher. She’s thinking out loud. Smooch? Mooch? Mooji? What about Moo-Chi?

Did I hear Moo-Chi? Yes! That’s it! A cool Zen name! I’m a Moo-Chi!”

Nighttime activities

"It's dark. I've been sleeping for hours on the bed with my new family. I remember the time with my mum and brothers and sisters. We were one pile of claw and fur. There was also milk for us. It made us feel warm and safe. It's a bit different here with these two humans. They are so big! It's like mountains moving when they turn. It makes it hard for me to stay close to them, but I try. I lie on her chest with my paw stretched out to his shoulder. I truly hope they appreciate the effort I make to stay connected. Hm, time for my bowel-movement. They've given me a litter box and I know how to use it. I'm not like these slobbering dogs at the RSPCA that whine and scratch in order to get out, otherwise they defecate on the floor. Not me. I am a cat. We have our dignity and know how to keep ourselves and our territory clean. So I jump off this comfortable bed and head for the litter box. I do what I have to do and then scratch around. The elegant lady seems to wake up from the sound.

'Mmm, are you using the box Possum?' I think she means me with 'possum'.

'Phooey! That stinks!!!!!!! Sweety?! Wake up! He's poo'd'.

I am awake, so I think with 'sweety' she means the gentleman, not me..

'Oh-my-God, what a stench. It's the middle of the night', she grumbles.

Eh? what is wrong with a night time bowel movement? I've been sleeping for hours on end. I'm baffled, to say the least. Nevertheless, she jumps out of bed, grabs me and hands me to the gentleman.

'He didn't even bury that properly! One big turd for us all to see and smell with three bits of kitty litter sprinkled on top of it!'

Eh, excuse me! This is only a small box, I don't want to get my paws dirty, thank you very much!

This is not the end, the list of complaints goes on....

'Ugh, how can something so small and cute produce such a stench?'

Yes, I'm cute. Every cat worth his salt knows its worth. However, what is this commotion about a perfectly normal physical function?

She then storms outside with the contents of the litter tray. When she comes back, she grabs a bottle and starts to spray something that smells like flowers before coming back to bed. Does that mean humans smell like flowers when they go to their litter box? Is this a territory thing? I find it all very strange, offensive even. I know some cats are into this imperialism, but not me. Too much like hard work. Anyway, this has been going on way too long for my taste, I'm hoping we can finally go back to sleep.

'Ooh, I haven't been sleeping well'.

Yeah right. The complaints just keep on coming tonight.....

'With him draped over us, I'm afraid to turn in case I crush him in my sleep'. 

'It's ok darling', he says soothingly.

Good, I really need some comforting after this list of endless accusations. He really is a gentle gentleman.

'I'll keep him here on my side, you get some sleep'. Uh? He was talking to her?? Nevertheless, he gives me a cuddle, switches off the light and we can all get some sleep now. I knew it wouldn't be easy living with humans...."

Cuddles and accusations

"Hi, It's Midnight here. I've come home today. I just had a lovely snooze with the elegant lady on the bed, in our little granny-flat. She's telling me there’s another lady living on the property. Apparently this lady loves cats too, but is also enamoured of bats. Strange combination. Perhaps it's because 'cats' and 'bats' rhyme. Her partner is called 'Fruitbat' and they refer to this place at the edge of town as 'Bat End'. Does that mean she is the BatEndCat woman? Well, at least it's not BADendCat woman! 
The gentleman is talking. He's telling me the Batcat woman is called Selina.

My inquisitive nose twitches. 'So what about Fruitbat? I presume he likes fruit and bats, but is that his real name?'

'Fruitbat' he goes on, 'lives with Selina. He keeps a low profile, so you’ll probably meet her first. She’s very enthusiastic with animals.’

Sure enough, not much later I hear a clipper 'Hellooo' outside. Selina strides in, looks at me and states the obvious... 'Oh, he's all black! Are you a naughty kitten?' she asks me, as she leans closer. 
Eh? My blackness is obvious, but my naughtiness? I'm black, but why does this make me naughty? I'm not naughty! Does being black make me naughty?

'Yes! You are a naughty little kitten', she asserts, confirming an answer to her own question. 

Okay. I'm officially confused now. What did I do wrong? Even in my darkest hour, when I was shoved in a box and driven around in a wibbly-wobbly car, I didn't soil myself. Nor the box. Nor did I scratch the humans. Any lesser cat would have caused a cat-astrophy, but not me. And don't get me started about the behaviour of dogs in situations like that. Nevertheless, she says I'm naughty. Hrummph!

However, she's forgiven instantly with her next gesture. She picks me up. My confusion disappears, or more to the point, it ceases to be important. She has 'The Touch'. I am putty in her hands. I don't know about the bats, but she is THE Cat Woman, without a doubt.
'Oh, that's a purr! You're beautiful, you're so trusting' she marvels. 'Look' she says to the others, 'he's so relaxed that I can just dangle him upside-do......'
NOOO..'HELP'. She's taken my legs and holds me upside-down. I'm a CAT, not a BAT...cats do NOT dangle from their hind legs. My little heart is racing and pounding in my ears. I squeal, squirm and squiggle! Selina immediately lets me go and apologises. She plants a kiss on my head that calms me down. A little ruffle, an assurance that she'll never do that again, and she's gone.
Phew! But she has 'The Touch'....! She can come again!


Moo-Chi, being helpful.

I'm all energised now, I look around the place, and notice a lot of shelves and interesting objects. I am sure some of the objects will roll nicely, maybe even make an interesting sound when they hit the floor. I may not dangle upside-down very well, but climbing shelves is a piece of cake for a kitten with my abilities! Fascinating..one little tick with my paw and... what do you mean, no?? The NO actually repeats itself, this time louder. Eh, naughty? What do you mean, naughty? Me?

The awful truth is starting to dawn on me. Life with these humans is going to be very, very complicated."



Disclaimer: Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purr-ely coincidental.

The Journey

"Ok, I might have been a bit premature regarding the 'Homecoming'. There was a tiny event in-between. I forgot. On the upside, I have new owners Yeah, I reckon I own them. I see it in their eyes. Two pairs of glazed, gooey messiness. I'll have them wound around the tip of my tail in no-time. On the downside, I've been shoved in a box. It had a few holes, but I could barely see a thing. Then I heard this roar; this awful noise that kept on going. Everything started to shake and move, vibrations coming through the box, and on, into and through, my body. I am, by now, mewing as loudly as a tiny kitten like me, can, 'This is awful, let me out of here!' I can hear the man saying it might be better to take me out of the box. I mew again, in agreement. She then takes me to her lap. I can see trees moving past, in a fast motion. My owners are talking to me, and telling me that I'm in something called a car and we are on our way home. So, the box isn't my home, the car isn't my home. Where's my home?! They are telling me we're on the Centenary Highway. Is this my new home? Hope not. I'd prefer my home to keep still and be less roary. 

Meanwhile the conversation between him and her is a little puzzling. He keeps saying odd words. Haven't worked out what it's about yet. I think he has difficulty forming full sentences. For example, 'Beethoven?' he says. 'No' she replies, 'That's a brilliant composer, and then they named a big slobbering dog after him.'

'Apollo?' comes out from him next, obviously still struggling. 'That's the god of light...Our little kitty is black! No'

'Einstein?'... 'No'.

'Tchaikovsky?'.......'No'.

'Newton....?'

'Neh'. 

Hmm. I'm concerned now. Has she regressed? She can't even string two syllables together now?

'Sweety, this is the Brisbane River.'
Ah, she's talking to me now. I'm relieved coherence has returned to her.

'Shostakovich.....?' he starts again after a moment
'Yeah, like 'Shossy' for short? No.'

'Michelangelo....?'
'No.'
'Shakespeare....?'
'NO.'
'Possum, this is Moggil Road. We're nearly home'.

Shakespeare?' ...'NO'.                                            

Possum?! I'm no possum! Oh man. I'm confused. Who are these people? Did they even get an education? Certainly not in English or Zoology!

'Ok sweety, we're nearly there, but the driveway will be a bit bumpy'. 
BUMPY?! She's kidding me, right? It's an earthquake!
The trees are not just moving past, they are shaking past. 
Hang on, maybe it's us that's doing the shaking. My brain's hurting. This is complicated stuff. 

They explain to me that we live here in a granny-flat, not too big, but that on the weekends we live on a property outside town. Meaning, I'll be doing more journeys like this. Oh, that's just great... But here is the granny-flat. Looks big enough to me. It's bigger than the box, car and my cage at the RSPCA put together. Then there is this wonderful big, soft space. They tell me it's a bed. There is another soft space and this, apparently, is a couch. Not sure of the difference. They've given me some biscuits to eat, and a place to place poo. After a bite, I lay down with the elegant lady on the place called 'bed'. It's where you lay down to sleep or relax. She even put a glass of water next to the bed for me. That's kind.

It's been an eventful day, so it's definitely time for a cat-nap  and a back rub now......"

"......Erm.....I'm waiting.....Back rub?.....Anyone?......Please?!"

Homecoming

"Homecoming? Isn't that the ending of a story? In this case not. It is the beginning. It is my beginning.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Midnight. According to the RSPCA members I am "the one that goes 'bump' in the night and I'll pounce on your toes." And that's about right.
So, here I am, a black kitten, 8 weeks old, with a black and white brother. We are at the RSPCA in a little tent made of netting. Little kids poke their fingers at me, and when I pounce, they cry.
Sometimes they dangle fake fish in front of me, and this time when I pounce they seem to be pleased. Very strange.... Rather inconsistent, is it not? Do you want me to pounce, or not?

There is a couple standing in my vicinity. They look very close and very much in love. She's tall and elegant. He's small, but interesting (let's not dwell on the absence of elegance). They both look like cat people. No child....You know, it might be Them...The ones I'm going Home with. 
They are talking to Sam, one of the RSPCA members. She's asking what type of cat they want. "Well," he explained, "in my experience it's the cat that chooses us, not us choosing the cat." "Indeed it is" I meeuwe (too young to reach the miaow)! Looks like this human has a bit of wisdom! 
Very good! Oh gollymosh, they're coming my way. Sam zips open our tent, the elegant lady crouches down and reaches out to.... what?!?!.. my Brother?!?!? Impossible! Look at me! Here I am!! Look at my sign! It says  that I am TERRIBLY cute and mischievous, and I am looking for a partner in crime. You want my brother? Who lies all day in the sun and sleeps on your bed? Yeah, that's what his sign says. No, can't be true. He's ok, I guess, nice enough, but he's such a dope.
So I reach out and gently pat her hand with my paw. No reaction. She's STILL looking at my brother, who's not paying any attention to her. I pat her again. She's still not looking at me! Desperate times  call for desperate measures. She's crouched, I wiggle my bum...focus... and jump straight in her lap. "Oh," she says, "Look at him!" She pets me, and hands me to the man without elegance. Hmmm, he sure knows how to handle a cat. I can just relax in his hands. "Eh.....Darling" he says, "I think we found him". The elegant lady gets up and looks at us. "Listen to him, he purrs like an engine." Cue my opportunity to prove a point: I purr a wee bit louder. I can see her eyes, they widen. I know she's sold. Excellent. 
Again, they are talking to Sam. It seems she feels obliged to look at other cats as well, since I'm the first one they saw. "Well," I think, "good luck with Tibbles, Clare and Mr Johnston." No, this is settled. Today I'm going home!

Indeed, not long after that, they are back to admire me. Both their eyes are big and shiny now. Sam puts me back one more time, so they can do a thing called 'paperwork' and pay the bill. I've gotten the impression there are some very strange things going on in the human world. It seems that they have to give some pieces of paper of value in exchange for my life... I mean, how can you swap something alive and terribly cute, like me, with a lifeless piece of paper? And then that thing called 'paperwork'. How does that go? I've yet to see a piece of paper do any kind of work. Everyone seems to hate it, but they just keep on about it, and doing it, anyway. 

Life as a cat though, is pretty simple really. Just give me my food, a litter box, scratch me behind my ears and rub my belly. Don't forget the adoration! Meanwhile, I pounce on everything that moves and sleep on your bed. That's as good as it gets. 

Anyway, the paperwork is done, I've been put into a cardboard box, and finally I'm going home, a new home!!"