I Changed My Cat’s Name, So What?
Can you take a photo of the night sky? I tried, but it didn’t show the brilliant display of constellations that I saw early this morning. I took a shot of the back yard instead.
No matter what time I get up, and this morning it was at 4:30 am, the cats are there, waiting for me. Sketch wants out, but not before you put some food in his bowl and clean his litter box and then go with him into the great dark. Boo Boo is always ready to go out, and she doesn’t care if anyone else goes with her or not. She loves it outside.
I changed Boo Boo’s name. When we first got her years ago, I named her Scout, from To Kill a Mockingbird. That name never really fit. So when we moved to the country, I changed her name to Boo Boo, and she seems to like that just fine. It’s after Boo Radley, you know.
Why is it wrong to change her name? She likes it, I swear she does. I call her Boo, Booby, Booby Trap, Boodles, And she likes them all. Who wouldn’t? Of course, she answers to none of them, and she understands that when I call “Scout” she must come at once. She doesn’t come at once, or at all, unless there are treats, but she understands something serious is about to happen when we use her formal name, Scout.
When I call her Booby or Booty she knows she is in for some conversation, which annoys her, but she gets petted, so she just tunes out my sweet talk so she can get her chin scratched.
Why is it wrong that I changed her name? I thought it appropriate that we moved to the country for the isolation, so she could take on the name of the reclusive, mysterious Boo Radley.
Celebrities change their names on a whim, don’t they? Example: Prince, or the Artist Formerly Known as Prince, or the symbol which stood for his name. Chad OchoCinco or whatever, that wide receiver who changed his name. Maybe he was a running back. Whatever. Wasn’t his last name Johnson? I don’t know.
The point is, my cat is not confused. She is secure in her identity, and she has adjusted to the name change just fine. It’s a lot more fun for me to call her now. “Booty! Booby! Booby Trap! Where are you?” Sometimes I call her Michael Buble.
Boo Boo is a tuxedo cat, black with white markings on her chest. You’ve seen them. She has short legs, long hair,, with an Arabian horse tail that always stands straight up.
And she has enormous green eyes. And she thinks very well of herself.
Why all this talk about my cat? Because yesterday was Sept 11, and I spent hours watching shows about the rescues, and it brought back memories.
And I would lots rather talk about the changes in my life, retiring from work, moving to the country, becoming more involved with my cats and my yard and my partner, just living in the moment, for the moment.
I think Boo Boo has adjusted just fine.