What's in a name?

We got our cat from the Animal Shelter on a hot August day. He came right up to the bar, looked us in the eyes and purred. I think that's one of the last times he ever purred. My take is: "I got what I wanted, a family, so why bother expending energy into purring?"

He was about 6 months old and it quickly became clear that he saw me has his slave; I was the one who let him in and out, who fed him.....you get the idea. I was bemoaning that fact one day when my son said, "Don't feel bad. Kitty is a teenager in human years. It's natural that he does not like you. Wait till he's older."

Well, the wait is over and the jury is in. He's older and I'm still his willing slave. The problem is that despite how he turns away his nose from me, I think of him as my child. Which begets another problem. What should I call him? The oldest, because that is what he is in human years? The youngest, because that is what he is in cat years?

I understand that in the scheme of the world, this sort of whimsy doesn't really signify, but it does matter to me because words, names, matter. After all, I spend my days weaving words together and we all know that titles are a big deal because, like Kitty's first purr, titles can pull people in. I'm still surprised I came up with "The Girl Who Went Missing." It's a far cry from the original, rather bland "Mumbai Girls."

So back to the "What's in a name" dilemma. Kitty is the same whether I dub him my oldest or youngest child. And yet I know that isn't quite true because though the inside of my novel is the same, no matter the title, it is the title that first catches the eye.

As for Kitty,I'm his slave, never mind that he just calls me "Meow." I confess that sometimes I think of it as the "Now of Meow."