Naming of Cats Main pairing:
Uh...this is about a cat. MY Inspiration:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer (original movie, T.V. series, graphic novels), “The Naming of Cats” (poem by T.S. Elliot) Disclaimer:
This is my standard disclaimer; I don’t own anything in regards to the sources of MY Inspiration
. All publically recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
All the characters, worlds, base concepts or general ideas are just a bit food for the writing bug. This story is pure fiction and is in no way meant to copy or reflect real life, events or people, should this happen then obviously it is pure coincidence. Summary:
Bash that cat, um...well, let’s try it anyway. Rumors are that cats have nine lives. What if that is true? Speech Legend:
(This is the standard by which I write my stories and therefore you will not see this repeated in future chapters)
(…Cat Speach / Cat thoughts
----- Three Different Names - The Family One
An innocuous looking black kitten was just sitting up on a balcony railing, not really watching the world go by. He was too busy not paying attention that that’s when it happened. Suddenly in front of his face was one of the pointed eared floating vampires that had somehow started to infest this part of town. He was taken and place in a cage with other cats and kittens.
(...Rats...) The black kitten said with a yowl.
(...Where?...) Asked an orange tabby.
(...Figure of speech...) The little black kitten said.
(...Oh, you’re one of those...) The orange one said. (...A thinker...)
(...Something like that...) The black one said.
(...What’s your first name?...) The orange asked.
(...Why?...) The black one returned.
(...You’re not the only black cat in this place...) The orange cat said.
(...) The black kitten looked around and noticed that there were several different types of cats here. Tabbies, Siamese, Calicoes, Greys and quite a few that were predominately black. (...I see what you mean...) He said. (...Family name’s Little Tar...)
(...That’s unique...) The orange one said. (...Call me Garfield...)
(...?...) The black one had a quizzical looked on his furry face.
(...I know I don’t look like that overstuffed publicity mogul...) The orange one said with a sigh. (...The family I had was not really imaginative...)
(...I hear you...) The black one said. (...So where are we going?...)
(...We’re snacks...) A calico replied. (...Word on the street is that these vampires snack on cats and kittens. You should have been paying attention...)
(...Whatever...) The little black kitten said.
Their conversation came to a stop when they arrived at the secret warehouse lair of the vampires. They were all separated into various cages. Little Tar ended up being one of the first ones on the menu when the vampire named Lothos picked him up and said that he was going to retire with “a little snack.”
----- Three Different Names - Peculiar, Dignified, Particular
She used to be known at “Little Tar” by a family in Los Angeles. She was also born a male back then. This time she was born pretty. She was not all black. She had a white patch under her chin to her chest, white rear feet and a white patch around her cute little kitten nose.
She knew that she’d be adopted shortly. Anyone as cute as her was bound to always go to a good family. She was right because only one day later and there she was adopted by a pair of good witches
She now had the boring family name of Missy and a better more dignified name of Miss Kitty Fantastico. (...Purrfect
...) She thought. (...I used to be a witch’s cat in one of my past lives, but there is something wrong with these two. They’re not terrifying children. They’re not even causing harm to others, what’s up with that
She waited for weeks before she began her campaign of terror.
Hairballs in the wrong place or perhaps that’s the right place for a human foot to land in. Many near sleepless nights for the humans when she needed to clean out her throat, it had to be done at the right time because timing was everything. (...Hurk...Hack...Hurack...)
“Willow,” Tara said sleepily. “It’s your turn.”
“I’ll get it in the morning,” Willow said rolling over and going back to sleep.
(...Well that just calls for the big guns
...) Missy thought. She looked around and eventually found her next project. (...Recycling
...) She thought gleefully.
The two witches didn’t discover this new project until it was time to study for their upcoming test a couple of days later. Their notes for that particular class had been shredded by the sharp claws of a curious, innocent looking kitten. They were horrified, but there was no way to punish the kitten because the kitten had not been caught in the act.
Three months of ongoing terror and the girls had given up. Hairballs always in their slippers, shredded notes, shredded clothing, all of their good shoes gnawed on and that had been the last straw. The kitten was sitting in the living room in a patch of sunlight, while her owners were plotting elsewhere.
“We need you to do this,” Willow said. “That kitten is driving us mad.”
“What do you expect me to do about it?” Spike asked. The girls had brought their problem to him.
“Y...you could use her in k...kkk....kitty poker,” Tara said. She blushed at having said that suggestion out loud. It was a terrible thought, but that kitten was a menace. It was almost like it had some form of intelligence.
“Tara!” Dawn exclaimed at that suggestion.
“I kn..know it’s not a nice thought, but our homework,” Tara said. “Even the curtains that your mother made for us are shredded.”
“Normally I’m against the putting down of animals, except for the bad ones like frogs and vampires,” Willow said. “But when we got the kitten she was so cute and sweet, now it’s all hairballs and ruined curtains for us. It’s like the kitten knows what we like or need and destroys it.”
“You mean like Spike,” Buffy said.
“Oi,” Spike said. “Watch it Slayer, your blond is showing. I never pretended to be cute or sweet for nobody, so no deception there. I just want to destroy you.”
“You’re achin’ for a stakin’,” Buffy said stepping forward with her had in her back pocket.
Spike snorted and then said sarcastically, “Oh no. Please don’t hurt Ms. Slayer, killer of demons. I’m too scared to put up a fight against you.”
Buffy only huffed out a sigh because she never thought it was a good idea to kick someone when they were down. Spike being a chipped vampire was a downed one. Not a fair fight in her mind.
“How about we take the kitten with us for a while?” Dawn said. The witches agreed and Miss Kitty Fantastico was moved from the witches home to live with Dawn and her sister the Slayer for a while.
Not even a week later and Dawn was begging Spike to take the kitten as a poker chip. “Please you have to,” she begged. “All of my favourite music CDs are ruined because it,” she pointed to the kitten. “Thought that they were shiny toys or they were a bed.”
“That kitten is a menace,” Anya said. “It ruined my pantyhose and left hairballs in all of our shoes the last time we visited you.”
Dawn then said, “I could just set her free in your crypt and let her do a number on your leather jacket.”
“Ooh,” Anya said. “That’s a pretty good vengeance idea.”
“No bloody way,” Spike said. “I’ll take care of that kitten the normal way. So long as your conscience ain’t gonna bother you.”
At that point, they heard a noise from the training room. It sounded like the word “Shit” and “Oh, dear” and a loudly said question. “Who left the crossbow out?”
“Oops,” Dawn said. She ran into the back room and saw that Giles had tripped on the cross-bow that she had left lying around after she had finished practicing with it. “Sorry Giles,” she said.
“Be careful,” he said. “I almost hit that darned cat.”
“Darned?” Dawn asked.
“I caught it trying to shred some of my inventory,” Giles picked it up by the scruff of the neck and held it out to the young teen. “Take it out of here and leave it at home.”
But the fact that he had almost taken out the kitten with the cross-bow had given her the idea and she thought, ‘It’s time for a little target practice.
It didn’t work, the kitten was too fast and it was still coughing up hairballs everywhere. Dawn left the cross-bow lying out again one day accidentally on purpose and this time the bolt didn’t miss.
----- Three Different Names - Only the Cat Knows this One
“Well that was interesting,” she said to her brother.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go for another round?”
“Not this time,” she said. “Nine different lives in a row, is quite enough. I believe that I’ll rest for the next hundred or so years before trying it again.”
“Why do you do it?” Horus asked her.
“It’s fun and interesting,” she said. “You meet so many different people and your past lives influence some of the current ones.”
“Like when you were Miss Kitty Fantastico?”
“I’ll admit that I did everything on purpose,” she said sitting down and looking around at the others from the Egyptian pantheon. She looked back at him, leaned in and said, “I had a lot of fun.”
Poem by T.S. Eliot “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.