She Who Shall Remain Unnamed

So we figured it was high-time we got ourselves a cat. Esmé has been asking and asking. And I must admit, though I wanted it, my heart was still heavy from losing K and R. Plus it's not like we don't have plenty of little creatures nipping at our ankles here, requiring of us food, love, trips to the doctor and waste management. Not to mention how during any given night there is always the possibility of being woken up, actually two possibilities, and did we really want to add a third?

Yet Esmé kept asking. And every time we went to a friend's house with pets, I'd marvel at how well Theo got on with animals. I wanted to encourage that. And, perhaps the most compelling reason of all, I simply missed having a cat in the house (and the two-week stint babysitting the preschool guinea pig over the summer didn't quite fill the void).

So over the Christmas break we took the plunge. And it really did feel like jumping into a great unknown. After 15 years with the same animals you just don't know what you're going to get. We had a few criteria, she had to be a she, we wanted a kitten but not a new kitten, 6 mos. or more would be perfect. Plus it would be great if she were black because we already had a name for a black cat all picked out: Bête Noir, for short we'd call her Betty. At the shelter we literally had our pick of the litter (only no Bête Noir).

It was love at first sight, at least from Esmé's end. She and the little grey cat (6 mos. old female- perfect) took to each other immediately. We being grown-ups who need to over-think every decision, managed to draw out the visit to a multi-hour affair asking and re-asking Esmé, "are you sure?" and "is she really the one?" I think we were twice bitten, still shy.

So we took her home.



And then we couldn't seem to name her.

First she was Luna Cappella.

Then I remembered that our babysitter had a chihuahua named Luna who went missing over the summer. Didn't seem right to use that name.

Then she was Tartine. Then we went to a family function where the name went over like stale toast. Scratch that one.

Esmé wanted to call her "Ow." Now I'm all about nurturing her self-esteem and all, but there are limits.

So then she suggested "Owl." But we gave a hoot.

I wanted to call her "Gris-gris," a voodoo amulet that brought luck and warded off evil. This amulet was also said to function as birth control-- score! Esmé was game, Kristopher was not.

Kristopher wanted to call her Cat Woman. No.

Some time online generated serious contenders like "Gracie MacIntosh" and "Concetta Ferrari"

Unabashed Francophile that I am, I suggested Lutèce for the Roman incarnation of Paris. Thumbs down for being overly complex.

Grandma came up with some good ones, too, "Eartha Kitt" (get it? Kitt? Kitten?) and "Pewter"

Nothing seem to fit this kitten who was fitting in just famously. She really was and is. She was an instant member of the family. Tolerating the chaos that comes with sharing a home with a preschooler and toddler. She plays right along with them, then happily curls up in our laps at the end of the day. She doesn't seem to mind when Esmé scoops her up and carts her around. And though she eyes Theo with an air of apprehension (she's no dummy, she knows he's the loose cannon of the household) she and he have developed a bond that can only form between the one who occupies the high chair and the one who's circling below.

I can't help but feel Rosie and Kallyope were somehow behind our finding each other. She has Kallyope's green eyes and bone structure and Rosie's silvery coat. Personality wise she is her own cat, though. Rosie and Kallyope lived most of their lives in a house of grown-ups. They tolerated the intrusion of small humans beautifully, but I don't for a second believe it wasn't hard on them. And I couldn't have asked for more from them. This cat, however, is wired for kids, and I am so relieved. She loves the hustle and bustle that defines TLGH right now. It's a perfect fit, so perfect that I can't imagine we didn't get at least a little help from above.

So she did not remain unnamed. We call her Sylvie. Esmé's name if we didn't call Esmé Esmé. And Theo's name if Theo wasn't Theo. And in so doing we've truly welcomed her into the fold as our third (and final) ankle biter.