When I was married to Tommy, we acquired an all-white cat and named her Honky Cat, for obvious reasons. Maybe it was not as politically correct as it should have been, but it was 1975. Not trying to use that for an excuse. It just was the cat’s name.
Fast forward several years. My folks are from Lawrence County, and my son Tom and I were up at Uncle J.W.’s and Aunt Niece’s one fall afternoon.
I loved going up there because I love my family. Tom loved it because they had chickens and dogs and cats and a pond and acres to walk.
Aunt Niece told me there was a pregnant dog stuck in a little ravine nearby. She said she had asked around the community, but nobody had come forward to claim it. I was much younger then and told her I would help her rescue it.
We hiked to the site, and sure enough, there was a name-brand pregnant dog (an English bulldog, I believe) that could not get out of the little gully because she was so pregnant and the sides of the ravine were very steep. Between us, we got her up to level ground, took her to Aunt Niece’s house, fed her and cleaned her up.
Aunt Niece did not want to keep the dog because she had so much on her plate, so I took the dog home. We put her in the well shed with some cozy blankets, water and dog food. I put a notice in the Enterprise-Journal and on the local radio station, K-106, and we waited for someone to claim her.
Tom wanted to name her, which I deemed unwise since she was someone’s dog. However, that is not easily explained to a 3-year-old. Therefore, her name, he said, was Sneaky Mike.
I blinked a couple of times, took a deep breath, and said, “Honey, this is a girl dog. We know that because she is pregnant, and only females can be pregnant.”
Tom has always been able to think on his feet. He responded, “That’s why she’s Sneaky!”
Long story short. Sneaky Mike’s people came to claim her before she had her puppies, so I was spared that experience. Tom reluctantly surrendered her, and all was well.
Tom’s oldest daughter Taylor was allowed to name a kitten that they found. She named it Treeleaf. I did not even blink.
I have taught in public school long enough to accept Scelsia as Cecelia and other, more creative names at face value. However, the name Treeleaf does conjure up stereotypes for me, Grasshopper.
I had an image of Treeleaf gliding mysteriously from room to room in their house, like smoke. I thought she would be inscrutable, as cats are wont to be anyway.
Just as I will not apologize for Honky Cat’s name being politically incorrect, I own up to the Far Eastern cast that a name like Treeleaf invokes.
There are lots of other great pet names, but Honky Cat, Sneaky Mike and Treeleaf will always be some of my most memorable.
