Whenever I overhear anyone talking about baby names, I will insert myself into the conversation, even if uninvited. I love names. Before we even had the kittens, we’d decided to call them Pablo and Emmett. Of course we assumed we would be getting male cats. Instead, we’ve got these beautiful girls, which we have named Trixie and Nancy.
Trixie is a name I’ve always loved. My paternal grandmother—who I admired because she was a dedicated teacher, as well as being creative, artistic, and well-read—was named Beatrice, and, for as long as I knew her, she went by Bea. During my first pregnancy, I really wanted to name a girl baby after my grandmother, but call her Trixie, after my favorite teen-girl sleuth, Trixie Belden. This name was declared—by many, not just my husband—a hooker name and was shelved. I forgot about the name until we had a female kitten and proposed it to the boys. And, she’s a perfect Trixie…cute, energetic, curious, unafraid, sticking her nose in places it doesn’t belong.
Then, we had this other cat. Most of the names that were suggested seemed too immediate. I had this same problem when John and I were trying to decide what to name our children. If we knew someone with the name, good or bad, friend or foe, it was vetoed. It occurred to me that if we could follow the girl-sleuth theme to its logical conclusion and name the older cat Nancy (Drew Shepard). Amazingly, all my guys agreed.
Mostly I call her Fancy Nancy because she has a sleek, gorgeous blue coat. Or I call her Nancy Cat, which also seems to suit her.
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