(Andy in his natural habitat)
For years astronomers have theorized about the existence of another ninth planet in our solar system to replace Pluto, which was demoted to some other category of pointless rock for reasons only clear to the pocket protector faction of human society (I suspect the astronomers conspiring with the makers of the solar system charts you see in classrooms; Pluto was the victim of planned obsolescence).
Regardless, many eggheads believe that there must be another planet beyond useless Neptune that is causing pointless tugs and pulls on the orbit of it and the equally useless Uranus (which is seldom referred to other than in puerile “Klingon” jokes). Why we need to locate and label another dead chunk of real estate that reeks of methane eludes me, but the search for “Planet X” continues.
(rare image, albeit crappy, of camera shy Alfie Prime)
And yet the seeking of unseen, unconfirmed Planet X (in a connived and duct taped together sort of way) compares to a recent situation in the courtyard of my building. Twice a night (often more) I go out and feed my feral friends, Andy (a Gray Tabby) and Alfie (a Tuxedo). I’ve been friends with Andy since (incredibly) 2018 and Alfie has been around for about four years.
There is no other Cat in the galaxy like Andy. Although Gray Tabbies are common enough, his posture, battle scarred ears and strange green eyes that contain flecks of amythist make him singular. Alfie, as you can see, is your basic Sylvester–aka “Tuxedo Cat”–he does have a distinguishing meow all his own, but he rarely issues it.
About a month ago, I noted a change in Alfie’s personality. Usually he is a bold little fucker who will drill your hand if you aren’t snappy enough setting down his bowl. But this time, he ran off and hid on a neighbor’s porch until I went away, after placing his food in the usual place. I thought nothing of it because Cats are moody psychos. But later that night, he was back and somewhat nastier than usual. I got the plate down in the nick of time.
This pattern continued for a while until a thought entered my mind. Are there two Alfies? I experimented by leaving Catnip out for every Alfie I saw, beside the food. Alfie 1.0 eats the stuff and then, like most adult Cats, gets an expression on his face that suggests he needs to sneeze but has forgotten how. 2.0 sniffed the stuff then rolled around (I’m not certain of gender–just hoping 2.0 is not a girl for the obvious reasons) and did the usual Kitten regression act before shaking it off and resuming dinner.
Intriguing, but as proof I doubt it would stand up in science court. I then attempted to take pics of every Alfie, but they were inconclusive because both are roughly the same size, I take crappy pics (which I canned), and, of course, all Tuxedo Cats look alike. But, as always, that sort of thinking was just plain wrong. I then (finally) noticed that the meek Alfie’s paws were three white and one black, while all four of prime’s appeared to be dipped in white paint.
I was feeling very smart and proud of myself, but further experiments were no longer needed when I saw both of them at the same time at opposite ends of the courtyard on a Sunday morning. There’s satisfaction when a case concludes, but like Holmes, I experienced a bit of postpartum ennui and boredom–and there I was out of cocaine games since 1989.
So, now I have three feral friends. I need a name for “Two.” At the end I have a list of candidates and suggestions are certainly welcomed.
The week that was is no mystery. If you can find it in your heart to forgive Monday’s child, the rest of the week is a shining example of good writing. Hey, there’s an idea, weave in the poem as we go.
Monday’s child is fair of face: Well, I guess that is true about Lambs, even the socially belligerent ones found in my Rock and Roll Lamb School: 666.
Tuesday’s child is full of grace. Pam Knapp’s writing is certainly graceful in her first site story, Bully Boys and Navvy Boots. This is a strong and harrowing tale of cruelty, cowardice, remorse and, possibly, the finest grace of all, redemption. Pam does not back off and gentle this thing one iota. It’s a beautiful look at ugliness.
Wednesday’s Child is full of woe. One Way Street by Chris Carrel matches that sentiment and it is also full of anger, fear and resolve. Always a moody place, there are now certain areas of Seattle, USA that adhere to the darker moods of the soul due to the divide of wealth and pain. Oddly great wealth is still fairly new to Seattle, but the pain has always been there, and money has only increased the despair. This story is a perfect metaphor for enduring it all as seen through one mind.
Thursday’s child has far to go: That is an utterly ironic statement when compared to John Bubar’s restrained Almost There. The quiet moments of satisfaction and regret in choices and family are beautifully woven together; as well as hope for the future of a slightly recalcitrant son.
Friday’s child is loving and giving. The Last Fourth of July by return author Scott Pomfret is a brilliant, highly energetic affair that loves to give it to the reader. The thing never flags and the pace is utterly remarkable.
There we are, love us or read us, preferably both. And I must give the readers a compliment for their many fine and in depth comments. These are always greatly appreciated and are the good stuff that drips from the still, one precious drop at a time.
Anyway, back to our new friend Alfie 2.0…
Candidate Names for Alfie 2.0
- Shatner (after the episode in which Kirk is “halved” by the transporter, one aggressive the other a wussy)
- Caliban (Shakespearean names are a way to go, but Two is pretty mild, so maybe “Bottom” or “Mustardseed”)
- Deuce (obvious, but also loosely rhymes with “douche” which might attract a negative response from laid back Two)
- Darby Crash (or something equally unisex, because that is a mystery as far as Two goes. I figure a boy due to his size)
- (The) Megasoid (From a Sci-Fi tale by S.F. legend, Clifford Simak, about an extremely intelligent telepathic species of ET who lives to kill–somewhat Catlike, mellow or otherwise–an episode of the original Outer Limits called “The Duplicate Man”)
- Billy (for Shatner and even Connolly–for me that is the current favorite)
- Radley (something literary)
- Poe (even more literary, but also the name of a Teletubby)
- Ima Canuck (always a good option in the current political climate)
- Open for suggestions
Happy Ides of March, and heads up for those named Caesar…”Et tu” types need to hire a good lawyer…
Leila
literally stories 
It’s funny–I just read a story published on the site from last June (Jaime Gill’s The Monster and the Boy) and one of the comments there also mentioned Radley. So with that bit of synchronicity, I vote for Radley!
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Thank you!
That’s one for Radley.
Leila
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Good post and roundup. Possible names for Alfie 2 might be What’s It All About. Or, if that’s too cumbersome, maybe Michael or Caine. Video ties perfectly to your post. One of the early seasons of American Horror Story had an excellent Name Game video with Jessica Lange.
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Hello David
Caine is an excellent candidate! I only watched the clip twice, but it appears that Shirley Ellis was the only Black person in it. So times can change for the better.
I hope everyone sees your Rerun coming soon!
Leila
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I believe naming cats to be a tricky business because the cat tends adopt the persona associated with the name. Thus, many years ago a kitten named Rosie was very lady-like, even carrying around a catnip handbag, but after a trip to the vet it turned out we should’ve named her ‘Ross.’
If you fancy Alfie 2 might have dormant regal characteristics, how about ‘Ozymandias’ (Ozzy for short)?
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Hi Mick
Ozzy is a good suggestion, but the long version would be difficult because it is to be a name I can easily say when drunk. Ozzy, however, sloshes off the tongue quite well.
Thank you!
Leila
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Lots to enjoy in this not least a name game. I’m a handbag addict and have a few Radlrys but maybe calling a cat after a bag would seem a bit threatening. Billy is a fine honourable name but on the off chance there is a female present that makes her full name Willhemena and that’s a lot. So, after due consideration I rather like Darby. Classy I think and won’t sound ridiculous when called into the bushes. Although it’s always an embarrassing event. We had a cat called Squirrel. Walking round the woods yelling Squirrel, Squirrel earned me some funny looks
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Thank you Diane
Rather like those also, just in case. Darby gets a vote! I imagine calling for Squirrel gained a few strange looks.
Leila
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Early returns have one apiece for Radley, Caine and Darby.
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add one each for Ozzy and Caliban and Billy….
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Hi Leila
Thanks for helping take care of those cool cats!
I can’t help but vote for CALIBAN, so’s I can hear that cat say:
“Be not afear’d. This isle is full of noises, sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about mine ears…When I wake, I cry to dream again.”
It sounds like something s/he would say!
I see lots of black stray cats in my neighborhood. They hide under bushes and appear to stay fed from the dumpsters near as I can tell. Their black fur glistens and is truly shiny black. They seem as wild as the raccoons, opossums and squirrels, and rats, that also make the alleyways their homes. I’ve seen coyotes lurking around in the alleyways too (especially at night), and this is all in an urban neighborhood. The coyotes know where their food is and so the cycle of life continues even on the pavement. And the weeds that poke up from the cracks in the sidewalk in spring remind one of how life always goes on (so far) no matter what.
My mother used to sing me snatches of “The Name Game” song, so it really brings me back again, thanks for sharing! She was also the first one who taught me about the Ides of March and “Et tu Brute,” which has turned out to be more true in real life than I ever could have imagined when I was five – no that’s not right – I felt betrayed even then!
Thanks again!
Dale
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Hi Dale
You do make a strong case for Caliban. Feral Cats have the same anger inside. Ariel would be a crummy Cat name, but top shelf for an ethereal pet like a Canary.
Indeed we all get that surprise betrayer at least once in life. Still Brutus might be a good name for the ever faithful Dog, to bring back the loyalty.
In the play, I could see Brutus’ POV, but there’s never a good excuse to make a pin cushion out of someone.
Thanks again!
Leila
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Hi Leila
It’s also worth noting how Brutus has to hang out for eternity with none other than Judas Iscariot – at least in Dante’s version of Hell, the Inferno.
Some people think Dante meant his hell, purgatory and heaven to be taken LITERALLY. Jorge Luis Borges pointed out that Dante didn’t mean that at all – he was well aware that his afterlife/s were utterly and completely, and only, symbolic. Just like the Bible texts were originally read as symbolism until the Roman State turned it into a state religion and proclaimed that it was all official now (three centuries after the death of Christ). Thus we have modern Americans believing the earth is 6,000 years old (more like 4 and a half billion) and Jonah really hung out in the belly of the whale for three days before being regurgitated upon the sand.
The fact that Dante’s afterlife/s have been taken LITERALLY by such large segments of the population for so many centuries can be chalked up to none other than Dante’s awesome writing abilities.
And he must’ve had a blast placing his personal enemies in what looked like eternal damnation! I know a few folks I would consign to the eternal flames if I could – at least on the symbolic and ironic level…like people who manically wave around chain saws laughing and destroying other people’s lives and livelihoods then saying it’s all just in good fun…etc…
Dale
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Hi Dale
The structure of WP makes it tough to reply in the right slots, hope you see this. Dante shows that the power of print has always been strong. L. Ron Hubbard got his thing over simply by publishing it. I recall “if it is in print it must be true” ruling things–even though the internet age has proven that wrong, many people still cling to that absurd belief.
Thanks again!
Leila
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Leila
L. Ron Hubbard used to live in Bremerton for a while, didn’t he? I’m not a member of any religion (officially or formally) but I did used to talk to folks at the Scientology Center in Wichita, Kansas…while I was doing my job of delivering pizzas they ordered (and smoking many cigarettes in the car while driving around). LRH lived in Wichita for quite a while, and it was he himself who founded the Center there…
THE MASTER (2012) is a brilliant film of genius! Philip Seymour Hoffman and Joaquin Phoenix are BOTH brilliant, HILARIOUS AND HEARTBREAKING in the same movie…A brilliant script by the director, Paul Thomas Anderson…
Hubbard was a wild American character. Probably more sincere than many think he was. And anyone who can take his skills as a pulp SF writer and translate them into a Religion that kind of resembles a real religion is a wild-ass individual…and an outlaw. An utterly fascinating American character, and only possible in the good ol’ USA.
Dale
PS,
Another film I can recommend is GRIZZLY MAN (2005) by Werner Herzog. Timothy Treadwell was another wild American who sort of founded his own religion (of one) and the way he made friends with the foxes not just the bears was awesomely awesome and utterly one-of-a-kind…
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Hi Dale
I found an ancient magazine that had a Hubbard tale in it long before he started his religion. Yes, he did live in Bremerton, long ago, but I guess he mainly stayed in a small town not far away called South Colby (wonderful little place, Bremerton not so much). You have reminded me of that movie I have been meaning to look at for years!
As far as the Scientology goes, if it helps and doesn’t hurt anyone, I am cool with it. Life is tough.
In 70’s Seattle there was a “testing center” down town. I wish I had taken up an offer to be “read” but I avoided it. I bet it would have been intersting.
Leila
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Leila
Fyi: I also really like (and dig) your sentence from today which ends: “[this is] the good stuff that drips from the still, one precious drop at a time.” It’s a beautiful way to say it and a great way to think about it. And it effectively undermines masculine anger in a healthy way.
Burroughs started a trend when he moved to Lawrence. Now all the good writers live in towns that are somehow on the edge, whether it be the edges of great cities, the edges of certain areas, the edges of nowhere, the edges of the continent itself, etc. Very few of the good ones live in what used to be the literary centers any more (New York, San Francisco, etc). Those joints have been completely taken over by the fakers, and the movers and shakers (who ain’t AUTHENTIC artists, more like con artists of the word (not The Word), who can sometimes be charming, of course).
To be good now, you have to inhabit a more honest locale (and that often means humble). There are ALWAYS exceptions, and there are exceptions in this just like anything; but this is certainly the rule. (I could write an essay on this with tons of evidence to back it up and will one day when I can fit it in.) It’s even partly a mysterious thing, but totally true. Hunter S. Thomspon did the same; his part of Colorado was middle of nowhere. Henry Miller moved to the suburbs in California. Nelson Algren moved to Paterson, New Jersey. Writers have always been figures in the margins (that’s the beauty of this calling. Shakespeare is the greatest example as in so much else). Now they really need to be, and that includes the towns they live in or don’t live in. My two cents.
dwb
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Hi Dale
I think I would have liked HST Colorado retreat. I watched BBC thing about him (circa 1980) at his “ranch” and although I most certainly do not condone firearms and booze, blowing stuff up has its merits. Burroughs loved his guns too (Mrs B not as much). And Hemingway. Hell even Harper Lee hunted. I grew up around guns but I have never owned one.
Thanks again!
Leila
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Leila
With regards to the search for Planet X, I approve! The search for useless knowledge is all we should engage in because we don’t know what Pandora knows and neither does she. Do we really need the combustion engine? Plastics? Only useless discoveries and frivolous inventions like the hula hoop and finding new planets should be encouraged.
The naming of cats falls into this category. I also share a yard with a tuxedo cat the denizens of the local brewery helped name warrenbeatie [lower case] for obvious reasons. But as gender appears to be an issue, and Billy can go both ways, go with your current favorite. The cat will not notice nor will Planet X. — Gerry
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Hello Gerry
Do you also have a shirleymcclain?
Thank you for ideas about useless knowledge. It would be interesting if Planet X was made entirely of lithium and watch Elon try to claim it. That would add to the enterainment factor!
A vote for Billy noted–
Thanks again
Leila
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Hi Leila,
I really do love thinking of cats names.
Dog’s fall into their names, cats not so much but because they don’t, they do if that makes any sense.
Here are a few suggestions.
Grimley.
Moriarty.
FleaRoy (Stolen form an advert!)
Ethelred.
Renfield.
Bastien Schvienstegger (After a footballer)
BB (Beelzebub Bubbles (A Blackadder reference))
Ceefur (C fur cat)
DeeGee (For Doppleganger)
Bernard (After Nursey in another Blackadder)
Rasputin
Zazzles (‘Big Bang Theory’ reference)
Jimmy Parr (A well known street person in Ayr)
Concky (Another well known street person in Ayr who was murdered.)
007
Clueso
PeeDee (Personality Disorder)
Random (Scottish for Weirdo!!)
Nutter
Gallus (Old 1970’s Scottish word for special / Amazing)
HAH!
I was just about to put my name as a sign off but it may have looked like I was suggesting SHUGGIE!!!
Excellent as always
Hugh
…Oh, what about Saturday Post!!!!
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Hello Hugh
Amazing list of suggestions! In keeping with a need to say it while intoxicated I like Concky, although that sounds like a sad tale. I might be able to spit out “S’post” for Saturday Post, in that situation (given my monosyllabic nature during those events), but further experimentation and field studies are required!
Happy anniversary once again to you and G.
Leila
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I thought of something then forgot it. Men In Black. I will proceed regardless and hope that I remember.
Nothing to do with names (yets), but we had a pair a normal experience with cats in Terra Linda CA (a taint between Novato and something). I woke up one morning to see our black cat Batface (named for his fangs and ears) doubled at his foot bow. Eventually the fun was ruined when we noticed one of the Batfaces was a skinnier black neithbor cat who had found a way to sneak in for a freebie.
Batface was originally possessed by my sister in law who named him Frodo, but I forgave her. Best cat, liked people, would lay on his back on my outstretched arm, didn’t like other cats but a poor fighter, frequently wounded. Whew. Dumbass Doug let him out one night and he eventually came back with a fatal wound.
Others:
Pooch (Sharon didn’t like the name Puss a gray) and Boots (male I think a tuxedo). Twins to replace Batface. Boots irritated Pooch by trying to mount her. After that she rule. He died young – heart attack? – she died after 20.5 years. We were injecting fluids at the end. She was really in bad shape when she died.
Orville (because he was a Red enbacher I think). He was sort of a neighborhood cat. Legendary lifespan, maybe a thousand years. Ended up dying accross the street from us.
Harriett, the hairy pet. She lived with us a little while after her person died. Very mellow.
Probably last in the line of Hawley cats. Kitzhaber was a rescue because his person was demented. He hated other cats in our backyard. Mostly good natured, but be careful. Died in my arms.
We fed ferals for several years, but they have moved on one way or another. Have not seen the yard rabbit in a few days.
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Hi Doug
I know how Black Cats truly look alike except in size. I have had one (Dudley) for 15 years (going strong) and yet he is indistinguishable from his ilk; they all have the same gold green eyes. And they all look like Bats when young. In fact (similar to your Batface) I nicknamed him “Batfink” after the cartoon of yore.
Thank you and I hope you two are well
Leila
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To all
Thank you for casting your name votes. This quest will remain open until my next Saturday post, likely around 29 March, and we will have a name for “Two” at that time.
Leila
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Hi Leila,
I occasionally wonder about those distant planets. How that one got demoted. It somehow troubles me then I pick up my problems on this planet and all is forgotten, again.
I know your struggle with these cats. We have a deer cam, and we’re always saying, “Is that so in so?” Our neighbor’s cat eats everything, so we have no problem identifying him.
Another fun (and mysterious) post!
Christopher
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Thank you Christopher
I had a Raccoon cam myself once, and, no lie, one of the monsters saw it on the fence, got curious, then broke the thing by tugging on it! There is nothing they will not investigate.
Thanks for coming by,
Leila
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A belated reading – but no less enjoyable for that. Only once in my life did I have a pet cat, jet black he was too, & so was named – all too predictably – Snow. And didn’t that other Cat – Stevens, that is – mention in a song a cat called Frankenstein (?) Talking of which I only recently learned that 70s rock band Mungo Jerry is named after one of the cats in T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Cats.
Geraint
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Thank you Geraint
Hey, Mungo Jerry could be a candidate. I think Cat Stevens is so obvious that it is brilliant. Never occurred to me!
Thanks again,
Leila
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Love the Schrodinger’s Alfie anecdote. I’d opt for Shatner from the list of names – there’s a great song by The Wedding Present called Shatner which has a superb line ‘Can’t say it doesn’t really matter, this isn’t TV, this isn’t William Shatner’.
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Hi Paul
Thank you!
Rhyming matter and Shatner was inspired.
Leila
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