Gretchen: No idea what to call him.
Annabelle: The naming of cats is… how did it go?
Gretchen: A difficult matter.
Annabelle: He looks like Hodge.
Gretchen: Who?
Annabelle: Samuel Johnson’s cat. Hodge.
Gretchen: Hodge. Hmm. He looks like a Hodge.
__________
Voiceover
Annabel and Gretchen, leaning out of a Dutch Renaissance window, raise questions. How far back does the naming of cats go? Did the Dutch name their cats? Did the Egyptians? If so, what principles did they follow? Were they aware that cats have their own names for other cats? And do cats give names to humans around them, like Fooder or Kicker. To be sure, T.S. Eliot wasn’t the first to ponder the question.
The naming of cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm mad as a hatter
When I tell you a cat must have three
different names.
First of all, there's the name
that the family use daily,
Such as Victor, or Jonathan,
George or Bill Bailey--
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names
if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen,
some for the dames;
Such as Plato, Admetus,
Electra, Demeter--
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you,
a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that is peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he
keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers,
or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind,
I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quazo or Coripat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellyrum--
Names that never belong
to more than one cat.
But above and beyond
there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you will never guess;
The name
that no human research can discover--
But The Cat Himself Knows,
and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought,
of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
…
