Happy Tails

The journeys of a friendly orange kitty

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as 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 Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
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's 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, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
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 never will 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 a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

As TS Eliot famously taught us, in Old Possums Book of Practical Cats, all cats have many names.  This happy tail includes a journey of names from a generic ‘orange icicle’ to, most recently, Quincy.  It involves a journey through places, from a cold wet and deadly road, the home of good Samaritans, a cozy warm incubator in the ICU of Exceptional Care and, finally, his forever home.

He just arrived, abruptly.  It was 8 PM and very dark and very cold, the 29th of December.  He announced himself with the voice, both pathetic and insistent, of an annoyed and disoriented cat.  Roooww row, row Meow…..over and over.   Loud. Perhaps, and quite realistically, given the circumstances, he could not hear himself. 

It really was bitter, bitter cold out there.  The especially good Samaritans who had found him on a road, likely doomed to weather or traffic, speculated he had fallen into the nearby creek.  He was soaking wet.  His ear tips and feet were all swollen double size, but not ice cold.  Since the especially good Samaritans had taken him home for a while to warm and nurture him, we could not know if these feet had recently been frozen (which leads to massive tissue loss) or he was saved just in time.

After a thorough going over by most of the staff, he was situated in a cozy incubator.  Warmed fluids were administered to warm and rehydrate him.  His incubator, like a Sultan’s tent, was piled high with colorful and thick comfortable bedding.  The thin orange tomcat stretched out and his insistent yowling quieted and became quizzical.  It seemed almost that he was questioning this fateful, warm and comfortable turn of events.  From a dark wet frozen and painful aloneness, he had been touched by lots of kind hands and now had peace, safety and warmth.

He also had food.  Initially when it was offered it took him time to realize that this good luck, too, was real.  He enjoyed, eventually, that meal and, instantly, all the others that followed.  His many friends, checking on him, petting him, bringing food, fluffing his pillows….were all vigorously attacked with unabashed affection.  He face-rubbed and kneaded, purred and turned himself inside out.  He won hearts with his will to live and his seeming gratitude.

From a generic orange icicle he got called Orangesickle.  He lost some pad skin, his tail tip and his vision.  But he found a new life.

                                                                                                                MAK, DVM

I happened to be working the day “Creamsickle” came to Exceptional Care for Animals.  Despite his injuries, being un-neutered and not owned, he adored attention and quickly became a favorite patient of the entire ECA staff.  After treatment at ECA and after all attempts to find an owner had failed, he was ready for a forever home.  Unable to let go, I immediately offered to adopt him. 

When Quincy, as he is now called (for those keeping count, that is his fourth name in as many weeks), came to our home to live with my two bulldogs, one lab, one St. Bernard and four cats, we didn’t know how a blind kitty would fit in.  But, Esther, our 6yr old bulldog, made his comfort her priority.  She can most often be found sleeping with him or even grooming him. 

Clearly, Quincy is a very special kitty and, thanks to ECA, will be a cherished member of our family for years to come.