I do not know about you but I love cats. Their absolutely adorable antics are endlessly entertaining and make for such silly little characters. It is obvious that a poet by the name of T.S. Eliot felt the same way when he wrote the poetry book titled Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats. It consists of a series of poems that are portraits of different kinds of cats. Some of the portraits titles include “The Old Gumbie Cat”, “Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer”, and “Macavity: the Mystery Cat”. If any of those names sound similar it is probably because you know them from something much more famous: Cats the musical…or the atrocious movie adaption. The musical is loosely inspired by the book and of the three pieces of media the book is the best. Why? Because its main concern is all about cats and does not bother itself with having a story. The premise of the book is to just celebrate and respect cats and to take joy in their existence and everything that comes along with it. It is a book purely about cats, while I am not sure if the same can be said about the other two.
The opening poem of the book is a logical beginning and captures the mood of the book, specifically that it is all about cats and the mystical air that cats have about them. Aptly titled, “The Naming of Cats”, we get essentially a preface to what it means to declare the character of a cat and sets up the essential truth that each cat is their own cat. To open the poem there is no beating around the bush as the speaker says, “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.” The three different names of a cat in this poem are not akin to our first, middle, and last names. Rather “First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,/Such as Peter, Augustus,Alonzo, or James”. Then “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?” Some names of this sort include: “Munkustrap, Quaxo, Coricopat.” And last but not the least there’s “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:/Hist ineffable effable/Effanineffable/Deep and inscrutable singular Name.” Of this last section of the poem I love the play on the words ‘ineffable’ and ‘effable’ because it is full of contradiction and it also just sounds really cool. Yet it is that quality that I think is what makes cats so interesting. I mean they are cute and all but what the last part of the poem captures is the indescribable, yet on the tip of your tongue, allure that cats have. They are simply intriguing and unsolvable. A name will never really capture them. You will be forever curious as to what their real name is, and that may kill you but knowing a cat will keep you alive.