One cat, three names

So of course I kept the cat. But "it" needed a name. When he went to the vet on Tuesday August 13th, he was listed as Barney. That was the name suggested by Single Blonde Female (after Barney's Beanery, her favorite bar.)

Thanks to sharp teeth and claws, he was immediately re-named Spike (after favorite Whedon vampire, not railroad tie or male-oriented cable channel). And that, I suppose, remains his real name to this day.

But as it often happens, rather than finding the cat a name, the name found the cat. My boyfriend was, at the time, somewhere between cat-neutral and cat-suspicious. It didn't help that he kept waking up from vivid dreams of his feet stuck in a blender, only to see the cat gnawing happily on his exposed toes. This cat loved to bite.

And it was my (formerly) cat-neutral boyfriend who found our kitten's true name. As comedy writer and improv comedian, not only does he loves The Simpsons, but he can stand in front of that Simpsons poster with all the characters and do each voice--well.

So he started quoting from Marge vs. the Monorail: "I call the big one Bitey."

And that's how Spike became Bitey.














(Don't worry, William the Bloody, you're still our favorite vampire.)