My cat is well named, just as any self-respecting cat should be. First let us explore the origin of his original name. Abner Snopes was a character in a dreadful story* that, to this day, I remain proud of having been forced to read in high school. The original Abner set fire to some barns and smeared cow poop on the boss man’s lime green rug, if memory serves.

But I digress.

The feline Abner’s name has evolved, as cat names are wont to do. “Abner” quickly gave rise to two derivatives: Abernathy and Abilene. “Abernathy” has at this point remained at a full stop, but “Abilene” has started a meander down that delightful rabbit hole of feline nomenclature. Two wit: “Abilene” becomes “Abilene, Kansas,” which migrates into “Kansas City,” and sometimes even “City Boy.”

Obligatory aside: Sometimes I also call him “Fourteen Point Six,” since that is what his long lean body weighed last time I checked.

I am obviously pleased with the way Abner’s name is shaping up. However, I would be remiss not to give a tip of the hat to a true master, and mention two kittens from my childhood who were mostly named by my genius sister Mary, with able assistance from her trusty sidekick, my sister Laura**:

Kitten A: Algernon Rebecca Driftwood Bacon-bits Shoe Polish

Kitten B: Sad Sack Disfear Dube Peatfire Soup’s On

You can’t get much more well-named than that.

Anyway, back to my friend Abner. His personality is also his own. He’s not much of a lap cat, and will allow me to hold him only for short periods of time. If I hold on too long he starts to make a scary sound in his throat. He does, however, love to be close to his humans—but just prefers to do it on his own terms.

Younger Son is staying in the apartment across the street from us, and for some reason, Abner loves that place. He spends many nights over there, leaving my husband and me lonely and bereft. But does he care? No! Our working theory is he can still smell Elder Son’s cat, who moved out a year and a half ago.

Anyway, Abner Snopes the Second is a cat who walks where he will. I decided to share his handsome visage with you. To that end, I pored exhaustively through all our photographs of him, and I made a concerted effort to select the most dignified.

How’d I do?

(Photograph by Brooks Willburn)

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For your further edification:

 * “Barn Burning,” by William Faulkner. First published in Harper’s Magazine in 1939, and appearing in every single upper-level high school literature anthology that has been published from that day to this. You don’t know what you’re missing.

** The names I actually learned from my sister Mary who has had them memorized for about two thirds of a century. So, Mair, am I right? Did Daddy come up with them? (Note my corrections above; it’ll be like I never got it wrong in the first place.)