Future Cat gets a name
The story of Future Cat began back in late fall. My work colleague took in cat number five for them, Noodle, who adopted her and her family with a firmness that brooked no arguments. You probably know that five cats is… well, it’s a lot. Another cat means more food, more litter, and a great deal of scooping said litter. It means household dynamics must be retested and reevaluated between all individuals and species in the house. They took Noodle in anyway, since she was tame and insistent, and had no other owners. It was not a case of, “My cat wandered away but it already HAS a home,” it was a case of, “Either you take me in or I’m homeless, or I’ll become a shelter cat.”
In late January my coworker’s daughter was petting Noodle when something moved under her hands. I imagine she called out, “Mom, there’s something alive in here.” A week later, on February 2nd (incidentally, 02/02/2022,) the kittens were born.
I was following all this on Facebook with interest. “I shouldn’t get a kitten,” I thought to myself. “I don’t need another cat. I have Miso and Maple, and things are calm in the house. No more kittens.”
Then, after a few minutes of mulling it over, I sighed. “Who the hell am I kidding? I WANT A KITTEN.”
It’s been a long eight weeks since then. My coworker happily promised me a pick of the litter, but which one? There were four blacks and one grey. No way to sex the tiny nuggets yet — at least, not without expertise — so who knew which were male and which were female? All I could do was wait and look at kitten pics, a sublime form of torture.
A date was set to go MEET THE KITTENS. They were to be five weeks old and I was nervous. I was looking for a medium-energy lap cat, since neither Maple nor Miso are interesting in fulfilling this role in the house. It turns out three of the kittens were female and two were male, and since my coworker couldn’t tell them apart quite yet, I bought a shiny disco kitten collar to mark Future Cat as my own.
The day came. My coworker led me to the kitten room, and I plunked myself down on the floor, collar in hand, and waited.
I didn’t have long to wait.
Alpha male came up immediately and began playing with my shoes, but I have little interest in an alpha male, thank you. Then the alpha female, equally curious, approached… and that was it. Pretty much cemented in stone.
I had discovered her! Or to be more precise, she had discovered me, since she was hardly the medium-energy lap cat I’d been idly daydreaming about. She was dominant and insistent, like her mom Noodle, and yeah. This one. This one right here.
More waiting ensued, naturally, because five weeks is too young to remove a kitten from its mother. Meantime friends and family pestered me about naming said cat. They generated lists. Everyone agreed it should be an “M” name to match Miso and Maple, and food was a predictable go-to.
So… Marsala, Macha, Matzoh, Mochi, Macaroni, Mead?
What about other kinds of names, like characters from books and things? How about Merlin, or Merry (Meriadoc Brandybuck from LoTR)? There’s lots of nerdy names out there, like Morgan Le Fay, Mazikeen (from Lucifer), Montoya (Inigo from Princess Bride), and Missy (Mistress/Master from Dr. Who.)
Personally, though, I kind of prefer to keep things simple, so how about a regular human name? How about Micah, Mako, Mona, Maia, or my personal favorite, Misha?
It went so far that friends of friends were checking their bookshelves for inspiration. McCaffery, McGuire, Modessitt, Moffet, Monk, Moon, Murphy?
Geez there’s a lot of “M” names out there. SO. MANY.
Meantime, Future Cat was exploring my coworker’s house and establishing dominance.
Today was the day, and I brought Future Cat home. She’s eight and a half weeks old. I went over to my coworker’s house, scooped her up, and plunked her in the carrier. The grey kitten was already gone, and the alpha male was spoken for. He will be leaving with his new owner tomorrow. The others… well, they’re kittens. Someone will take them, I’m sure.
Meantime, this one came home with me, and oh BOY does she have a strong yowl when she’s upset. The drive was long and terrifying for her, and she let me know a piece of her mind. Now she’s quiet and residing in the smallest bedroom with a sleeping bag, dry food, a spoonful of wet food, water, and a small pan of litter. Quarantined from the household until she can show me that she’ll use the litter-box properly, and also until I can slowly introduce all household members without trauma. In any case, here she is!
Oh, and her name?
First off, I just want to say that I’m not a fan of the movie “Encanto.” I mean, don’t get me wrong — it’s watchable, just not my thing. Nevertheless, this is a little like naming a kitten “Ariel” in the year 1990. Because…
Her name is Mirabel. Welcome home, sweetie.
