A couple Sunday’s ago you met my latest addition to my furry family. At that writing, this cross-eyed feline was called Trinity, the name Marin Humane gave her because she came from northern California. Since that day, her name has changed no less than 4 times. Hey, it’s not so easy naming someone you’re still getting to know.
For instance, when I decided to keep this semi-feral, I made a list of possible names with help from my friend Loretta. After all, she was spot-on naming Dash…entirely apropos for that madman. So for a couple days Trinity was Willow. But as I got to know her better, she wasn’t exactly graceful or willowy. This girl has a touch of crazy.
Then I called Trinity Sadie, although she didn’t look like a Sadie (whatever that looks like). That name soon became Chloe. But no matter how often I said it, it made absolutely no impression on her. In fact, I believe she ignored me even more than usual. Besides, Chloe is one of the top 10 names for female cats and she doesn’t strike me as a particularly trendy feline. So I went down my list of 12 names and said each one to her while looking for some sort of approval, maybe a look my way, a blink. Anything. But I got nothin’.
I finally thought I settled on Stella, mostly because I love yelling S-T-E-L-L-A! like Marlon Brando did in A Streetcar Named Desire. But she didn’t appreciate the dramatic reenactment each time I saw her. Then one morning I walked by her and heard myself say, “Good morning Skye.” Just like that. It was unconscious but it stuck. And now she has a name.
As days passed and Skye’s personality emerged, I met a feisty feline. Her name fits perfectly with her sky-blue eyes and fur the color of clouds tinted with streaks of gray. The kind you see when a storm is brewing. That’s Skye. The storm breaks loose at night when she emerges from her daytime hiding spot under the guest room bed and ventures upstairs.
Skye’s bravery under the cloak of darkness is intriguing considering her daytime demeanor. If I’m watching TV in bed at night, I pretend I’m sleeping and watch her while she tries to climb my headboard.
I hold back laughter seeing her swipe at the ceiling fan 9 feet above her head. I muffle my eeks! when Skye attacks my feet under the comforter. I tell ya, her nails are like daggers. One little twitch of my toe and she pounces. Skye would have made a great mouser the way she stalks Dash. But then she also enjoys chillin’ with him in the cat tree.
Sadly, Skye has yet to convey any desire for me to touch her. Only time she tolerates me is at breakfast and dinner. And even that is fleeting so it doesn’t really count. All in good time (I hope). Her sister Lassen got adopted last week and although spittin’ images, they are quite different — like cotton and satin.
Now don’t get me wrong; I like cotton just fine and I simply can’t make Skye live a feral life. With her coloring, she’d last 30 seconds in coyote country. As aloof as she is with me, she’s still a big scaredy cat who chases her tail until she falls over. (She actually does.) So you see, she’s not particularly bright. But we all have our faults, don’t we?
Yep, Skye is my work in progress. Let’s just say I have my work cut out for me.