Ode to “Pesher,” My Cat

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I had never been a “cat person” per se. My family did not have cats growing up. We were a dog family. From the time I was a wee child, we had dogs. Always, a dog in the house. Except for my dad’s two hunting dogs. “Traveler” (what they called a Traveler Coon Hound); and “Blue”, (what they called a Blue-Tick Coon Hound). They were “huntin’ dogs:” they like to hunt Raccoons. “Traveler” and “Blue” stayed outside for the most part. That was until my mother heard me as a 3 year old, telling my daddy, “Daddy, go clean up that dog sheep.” Apparently, I was quoting my mother when I heard her tell him, “Go clean up that dog shit, out in the yard.” Children repeat what they hear. This case being no different.

After that, we just had “Big John.” “Big John” was a small dog that was my mother’s, she had adopted. The only person Big John like was my mother, and he did not like anyone else. Period. Big John was part Chihuahua and part Toy Terrier, and had a bad attitude of both. Big John died at 19 years of age, and then we then got a Basset Hound. We named her, “Bertha Mae. ” We just were not a cat family.

I had been on my own for some time, and had gone with a friend that particular Saturday in January, 1987 to find her an apartment. We walked into the leasing office and while she was working with the leasing agent, I went in sat in front of the fire. It was a cold that day. While I sat there mesmerized by the fire, I noticed a beautiful cat sauntering in like she owned the place. She jumped on on the over-sized chair that was closer to the fire, made a circle, looked at me then started swishing her tail. I made a comment to the leasing agent, “What a cool cat.” The leasing agent said, “Do you want her? The family she was with went off and left her and she doesn’t have a home.” I thought about half a second and said, “Yes, I do, and I shall provide a home for her. I can’t believe people just running off and abandoning their pet. Well, she is mine now.” I thought my new cat was a he. It made no difference I was the proud new mama of a cat; and I had no idea about cats.

First order of business, was to had to name my cat. THe leasing agent had no idea about her name. She was about 1 year when I acquired her. So, I named her Depechmode, after the group. I like the way Depchemode rolled off my tongue. I wasn’t particularly fond of the group itself. I like a few songs, but the name “Depechemode” was unique. Cool. Happening. So, Depechmemode it was, which later evolved into “Pescher,” the shortened version of the name. Next up, cat food, liter box, cat toys and something called “cat-nip, ” I had heard about that from all my my cat loving friends. Cats just love it, is what they said.

After we got home, I was told not to let her, him/her at the time, out of the house. He/she would need to learn this is home. Ok, not a problem, or so I thought. That first night was something of the pits of hell, with his howling. He wanted out. I did not let him out. What is more, I did not know that cats were nocturnal. This would be the routine for the next 2 weeks.

Right off the bat, I learned that cats, especially my cat did not like to be held. He/she would dictate to me when it was ok to hold him/her. If I held her an petted the wrong way, or area, he/she promptly would bite. So it was live and learn. Then I remembered the cat nip. I did not know what it was, but a friend said try that, it will calm him/her down. She did not tell me how much to use. The first time I gave her just a pinch on her food. I could not believe it. Calm, no howling. Then, not knowing I gave him/her about a tablespoon of it the next night. The next thing I know he/she is running wild, howling, going to the door wanting out, then running like a wild cat. I thought he is going crazy if I don’t let him/her out, so I did. He stayed gone and disappeared for a at least five hours. I was worried and had no idea where to look. I called my friend and was reassured, “Don’t worry, he/she will come back, he knows this is home now.” I waited and he/she showed up about 11:30 pm that night,looking as if he had been on a bender and went straight to bed.

Who knew about cat nip. I sure did not and the affects of cat nip until someone said you are giving your cat, “Kitty Marijuana and it makes them high.” I was flabbergasted. I had no idea. All I knew, is that I quit smoking marijuana after my last Kidney surgery as a pact I made with God (to find out about that, buy my book, “Standing in the Light: A Memoir.” Gotta find a way to plug my book perfect place and it is about the book 😉 lol ) and I sure was not going to be getting my cat stoned, although he/she loved it. So, that ended Pescher’s cat nip days.

I acquired 3 more dogs over the next 9years, one of them being completely mesmerized by “Pesche.” Pescher hated everyone, including most people and a roommate during college. However, for some reason as much as she would swat and hiss at “Beth,” the Beagle, she began to tolerate Beth. Beth wanted nothing more than to have Pescher notice her. The swats and hisses did that. Each swat and hiss, “Beth” would yelp; which would in turn made “Beth”, get over-whelmed with excitement becasue Peshe had paid her attention, no matter if it was negative. Then she would love Pesche all the more. If anyone could have accomplished making Pesce tolerate and “love” as much as she was able to a dog, it was Beth.

Depechemode and I grew to love one another in our own way. I did not find out about he being a she for another year when I took her to vet for shots. So, he became a she. Pescher was leery at first, not knowing about the the woman that she now owned. When she wanted love, she came and got it. I learned that she does not like to be petted and respected that. Pescher was with me for another 18 years until she became very ill and I choose not to let her suffer any longer. She was her own and remained cool to the very end. I came across this picture of her, and I smiled fondly remembering these days. Her name morphed with her over the next 18 year from Depechemode, to Pescher and finally Pesche.

I thought of Pesche and her names, then remembered the T.S. Elliott poem, “The Naming of Cats,” It fits Pescher to a tee. My cool cat. Pesche, and her other two names I did not know: Her name from her previous owners that abandoned her; and her name she only knew.

The Naming of Cats, by T.S. Ell

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.

“Pescher” Photo Credit: A. D. Pittman©