The Biggest Loser: Cat Edition

So, the last post that I mentioned having cats involved one of them dying. Well, I went to visit the other one today (he lives with my folks) and was pleased to discover that he lost 3.5 lbs. He used to be 19.5 lbs, so clearly he could afford to lose some. I finally found a way to get my pictures off of my phone, so I am going to try to run with technology here a bit and upload a picture of the new and improved Puck (though, even to my eye, he still looks fat...).

It's possible he could still afford to lose a few... Though, I did find out that Ragdoll cats, of which he is 1/4, tend to be larger than your garden variety house cat (and here was me thinking he had a mountain lion for a grandfather...). Okay, okay, I'll try to stop being a crazy cat lady for a while. On to poetry!

Well, thinking about cats and poetry of course brings to mind T.S. Eliot and The Naming of Cats. It also brings to mind the musical Cats!, but since I am not trying to frighten anyone away, I will leave off talking about that!

T.S. Eliot was a very fascinating individual. I believe I will have to post something else of his later to truly show what he was about, since The Naming of Cats is a much more trite subject matter than that with which he usually dealt. Although, for such an  influential and well-known poet, he really didn't publish that many works of poetry. He was born in the U.S., but later, he became a British citizen and renounced his U.S. citizenship saying, "My mind may be American, but my heart is British." He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1948 for "his outstanding, pioneer contribution to present-day poetry." He also had 13 honorary doctorates from various universities including Oxford, Harvard, the Sorbonne, and Cambridge. It is interesting to note that when his poetry first began emerging into the printed world, it was criticized as not poetry at all. His style and use of language was so different from the works of the day that the critics did not consider his work poetry!


The Naming of Cats

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.