On Little Cat Feet

On Little Cat Feet

You’re watching my fingers tapping on the keyboard. Those luminous green eyes are fixed on the movement…

     Mesmerized…

          mesmerizing… 

Help, Cat! Give me inspiration. The Naming of Cats is a great poem—but how am I going to write an essay on it? Eliot must have known cats. He used great characterizations. Why did I choose that particular poem? And speaking of naming cats…I need to name you.

I already have a name. 

You’re staring at me. I’ve heard that cats might have some sort of mind transference ability. It’s those eyes. Those deep, glowing eyes. What are you thinking? Are you trying to communicate?… Of course you are! Why didn’t it occur to me before? It’s almost as if you did tell me. Eliot! Of course. Hello, Eliot!

It’s not Eliot. It’s Ipsecattus.

You want a treat, Eliot? Oh, you’re so cute, baby. Look at all that fluffy gray fur. So soft… Eliot! It’s a perfect name for you. No—purrfect! Here you go! You like that? Good boy.

OK, fine. You can call me Eliot. But for that, I need another treat.

What?! What is it? What do you want? Oh, you are so funny! You’ve had a treat already. No, don’t look at me with those big moon eyes. Aww, you’re so sweet…here. Two more crunchies. But that’s it!

Scratch me behind the ears then. More. C’mon! More! You’re not focusing on me.

I need to focus on writing this essay. Let’s see what I have so far. Poetry Essay. The Naming of Cats from Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats by T.S. Eliot. Oh! I think you recognize your name already! Every time I mention the poet, you stare at me. What a smart boy you are!

Then you should mention me in your essay. I’ll be your muse—you can pay me in catnip.

Eliot, did you know Old Possum declared that cats must have three different names? 

Of course I do. His poems are but a transcription of our legends and lore.

Listen to this, Eliot:

“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.” 

It’s so silly, but it’s entertaining, isn’t it? What use would a cat have for three names?

Not a bit silly. He was right. We do.

“First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily.” Yours is Eliot. That’s settled. 

Bit of a one-sided decision, but I’ll answer to Eliot—if just to honor him. Scratch behind my ears.

Oof! Careful there, you’re butting my hand! Such a sweetie… You'll make me hit the wrong keys! All right, quick scratch. I need to get back to my essay. Ah-ah-ah, get your paws off the keyboard!

“But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular, a name that’s peculiar, and more dignified.” Now, Eliot, what do you think yours should be? Eliot—the poet—says it should never belong to more than one cat.

Ipsecattus, of course (meaning, roughly, the cat himself). It’s feline Latin.

Oh, I have an idea. Wouldn’t it be clever to start the essay like this? “You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter.” That’s in the beginning of the poem. What do you think?

Scratch. The base of my tail is itchy. 

Settle down now. I can’t see to type with your tail waving in my face. 

Read the poem again. It’s called keeping up my tail perpendicular.

Stop prancing around, please! Oh, you’re going to lick me now? Aww, that’s sweet, but—ouch! A little raspy there. OK, stop. That’s enough. Sit down. Thank you. Ouch! Are you going to make bread now? Ay-yi! Your claws are like little needles. I know you don’t mean to hurt me…

You’re squinting at me. Did you just wink? Maybe I underestimated you.

Maybe I overestimated you.

Are you spreading out your whiskers at me? What does that mean? You look smug. Cat whiskers are very sensitive. I remember reading something about the way cats hold their whiskers... It has something to do with your follicles. Pulled-back whiskers means you’re apprehensive, and spread out ones means you’re relaxed and confident.

You better believe I am! Don’t bother me. I’m cherishing my pride. 

All right, back to the essay. The third name, he says, “THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.” Ooh, that gives me an idea. Scientific names are usually in Latin. I’ll look up the Latin for “The cat himself”, and that will be your formal name. Let’s see… 

“In cattus ipse. The cat himself.” If we switch it around, it flows better. Ipsecattus. What do you think?

Bingo! I may have underestimated you. You’re smarter than you look.

You look pleased, Eliot. I think you like the name I’ve given you. Eliot Ipsecattus… The third one can be your secret. T. S. says that no human research can uncover it. That just adds to your mystique, Mr. Ipsecattus. I’ll respect your cattitude.

Well, thanks. Let me just sit in profound meditation and raptly contemplate that.

Oh, good. You just sit quietly with your paws tucked in, thinking little cat thoughts, while I get some work done.

You’re being condescending. I’ll let it slide for now, but there will be payback.

Whew! Getting close to done, Eliot. A few more lines to wrap it up, and I’ll be finished! Then I can give you more attention. Maybe I’ll put on some music. You know what would be appropriate? Cats, The Musical! It’s the poems of Eliot, set to music. All the stories of your kind!

Yeah, yeah. Don’t bother. It’s just humans poorly disguised as felines, making fools of themselves. I need a nap. Wouldn’t sleep with all that caterwauling.

All right, Eliot, I’m done! Ready to send it… 

That keyboard is alluring. Looks like a good spot for a catnap. Should I…? I think I should.

No, no, Eliot! Don’t jump up—

Mmmrrrp! 

Eliot! No—-

;0[‘]96

 y6kio/8

./lkmw3

T.S. Eliot — The Naming of Cats

https://poets.org/poem/naming-cats