Two cats. Five names. But now the main names are Ocean and her daughter Ziggie. Ocean because her eyes are deep and her coat is black and velvety, and there is a wave of white near her belly. Ziggie because she bears the zig-zag outline of a mountain range on her side, and she zips around like an investigator, ever curious and fast. When mother and daughter leap, they are astral yoginis, Cirque de Soleil. When they sleep, they are babies; Ocean tucks herself in, and Ziggie sprawls, each in their basket which used to hold mail.
Two cats. Two names. But T.S.Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats(for when is a cat anything but practical?) tells us there are four names for each cat, and one of these secret:
The Naming of Cats by T.S.Eliot
Just for fun, here is “The Wasteland” as well, though April is far away:
The Wasteland Read by Eliot
Once it was five cats, five names and a chart to tell them apart. That was they were month-old kittens and a young mom. Three of the kittens have ben happily welcomed into new digs, but two are staying with me, their guardian. Two cats, with two new names.