The Serious Nature of Naming Pets

Over the many years I have been owned by cats, I have found that one of the most challenging aspects of living with these remarkable felines is being able to choose a name that is both clever and also fits their purrsonality.

Sometimes I get lucky with a kitty that tells me his or her name right off the bat, but most of the time, since it is so important to me to get it right, bestowing a moniker upon a cat that fits purrfectly can be outright mind boggling.

It ‘s not only frustrating to me, but I am sure it must be nerve-wracking to any one of our kitties when out of the blue I observe a unique piece of behavior (which I had previously overlooked) that definitely calls for a name change.

For example, early last year I wrote a blog item in response to folks asking for help in naming their new cat or kitten. But recently my husband Marty and I found us in a similar predicament regarding our white Oriental Shorthair. This poor kitty has been named so many times, it’s a wonder that he hasn’t developed multiple purrsonalities requiring therapeutic intervention.

He came to us named “Moonraker”. In this 1979 movie, James Bond discovers a plot to commit global genocide; the title had nothing to do with the sweet, gentle purrsonality that our delightful new kitten exhibited,  and just the thought of calling him “Moonie” or “Raker” was out of the question.

Due to his extremely high-energy play resulting in some scary episodes which turned my hair considerably grayer, we named him “Trouble”.  But when we realized the name could potentially cause him emotional distress, we changed it to “Hubble”.

And even though “Hubble” was certainly dignified and respectful, Marty, from time to time, would affectionately call him “White Fish”.  While smoked white fish and bagel is one of our favorite Sunday breakfasts, Marty’s term of endearment constantly rubbed me the wrong way. I suggested the more spiritual nickname, “White Bird”, but the idea sank like a lead weight.

But the other day, while Marty and I were hanging out watching TV, Hubble jumped into my lap.  And while I was rubbing his paws and playing with his huge triangular shaped ears, a quintessential light bulb moment hit me like a ton of bricks.  Of course! His real name is Sir Pinkerton; Pinky for short. He instantly responded to it.

And to prevent his intellectual brother Hush Puppy from getting jealous, we now refer to him as Dr. Hush Puppy. He loves it!

What determines how you name your pets? Please share in a comment.