The Naming of Cats

Well, here she is; her big cyberdebut. It took her a day to come out from under the bed, then another half day to actually come out of the bedroom. She's adjusting very well, considering, and has turned into an totally restless affection junkie, but the bedroom is still her safe place.

Her name upon rescue was Patches. (Come on, calling a calico "Patches" is like calling a dog "Fido.") The woman at the cat shelter renamed her Patty, since it was close to Patches, and I have renamed her Pitty-Pat, in honor of Scarlett O'Hara's aunt in "Gone WIth the Wind" (Is that gay enough for everybody?). That also makes her Pitty-Pat the Kitty-Cat.

Just forget I mentioned any of that.

I named her for Patti Smith because she looks like a punk rocker. Yeah; that's the ticket.

I give up: she's Patty because Pat sounds too much like Cat, and she answers to it. You can get a pretty good look at her six-toed paws here (all four of them are hexadactyl). She's very weirdly colored, looking calico up front with hind quarters that are more tortoise-shell, and every one of her legs is a totally different color: A paintball wars terminator kitty.

She and the other cat, Marcel, still stare at one another on each encounter, eyes wide, making tiny, uncertain sounds back and forth. I think she's afraid of Marcel because he's really huge, and I think he's afraid of her with those claw-bearing snowshoes she has for feet. I had class today, so they were alone in the house, but I didn't see any evidence of blood spilled.

Twice this evening she came downstairs on her own volition, but we still have a litter box, water and food in the bedroom for her. That will definitely be going away by week's end.

Speaking of class, I retook the first day of the intermediate Dreamweaver course today (it's a two-day class), and I was amazed at how much of it I had retained from the last time. I almost nodded off once or twice because I was so far ahead of the rest of the class. The second session is next Monday, so I have time to work on the certification quizzes this week.

The rest of the week I'll be working from home, which will give Ms. Patty time to be brave with someone around to break up whatever feline altercations might emerge in the coming days. It's certainly more interesting than having Marcel moping around all on his own. He's 12 years old, she's 10 months old. I think they'll find some common ground somewhere. I mean, they're cats.