The naming of cats, as T.S. Eliot wrote in his 1939 poem (later adapted by Andrew Lloyd Weber into the musical Cats) is “a difficult matter,” consisting of three different types of names: the “familial name” the cat's family use daily, the "fancier" name derived from ancient and mythological figures, and the "ineffable" secretive name that Eliot states only "THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess."
Our cat Athena, (household nickname Kika), died in my arms this week after battling brain cancer for several months, sadly diagnosed just after my mom died of brain cancer in January.
About a decade ago, my daughter Molly (now a veterinarian) and I walked into a crowded cat rescue and Athena chose us by being the coolest cat there, sitting on the windowsill and acting like she didn’t care about the tiresome behavior of the other cats, yet fighting them for our attention to ride the gravy train out of there.
Molly named her for the Greek goddess Athena, one of mythology’s most fascinating feminist icons who ruled with intelligence and strategy over chaos or brute force. Unlike gods obsessed with conquest, Athena represents calculated justice, wisdom, democracy and disciplined warfare: she invented the modern day jury system, and the Statue of Liberty is fashioned after her. She was also the patron of handicrafts, especially weaving, proving power exists in creativity as much as combat. Cities looked to her for protection and fair leadership, most famously Athens, which was named in her honor.
Molly didn’t know at the time how perfect the name was for the intelligent cat. Her ability to craft different nuanced relationships for each family member based on our personalities ranged from athletic wrestling opponent to patient, comforting lap cat in times of emotional need. There were moments of humor: as she began to lose her vision and walked the house to “map” it in her mind, my son, her wrestling buddy gave her yet another cat nickname: “the Roomba.”
I became a reiki master years ago because I was fascinated by universal healing and the practice of the body’s ability to heal itself. I’d remembered learning pet reiki and when Athena got sick I sat with her almost every day in this gentle practice of deep relaxation. Since there’s so much stress around a beloved pet’s terminal illness, these were treasured moments for me and I believe, for her. I’m not sure which one of us was providing more comfort during these sessions.
Although she was named for the goddess of war, I didn’t want her “fight” to be more prolonged or painful than necessary as we worked through her palliative care with the medications we were given, managed by the local veterinary clinic where our daughter had worked as an intern during high school, college and veterinary school. Molly’s support during this time was appreciated beyond words.
We didn’t know if we’d have to make the terrible decision to take her to the vet to end her suffering, but she made the choice for us. After a tough day, which she spent outside in the sun, her favorite place, the morning came. She gave one last head-butt to her dad, which had been their signature greeting. A bunny came to the front door, as though representing her neighborhood sworn enemies whose offspring the goddess of war had long slain: a dignified farewell.
She died in my arms with the gentlest purr for a goodbye.