Bong Water, Parking Lot and Cruchwrap Supreme. People are sharing their hilarious cat names.

"The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,

It isn't just one of your holiday games..."

When T.S. Eliot wrote "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats" in 1939, he probably never imagined his poetry would be turned into a delightfully despised musical. And when unsuspecting show-goers witnessed the spectacle of CATS on stage for the first time, they likely had no idea how much of the largely non-existent plot would be about what, why, how cats are named.

Silly, perhaps, but the naming of cats truly is a difficult matter. Cats are bizarro screwballs of the highest order. They start off adorable little puffs purring fur, and evolve into beautiful animal specimens that emanate strength and grace on the one hand and hilarious quirks and personality on the other. How can you possibly choose a name that truly befits such a magnificently weird creature?

You can't. Which is why people end up naming their cats the silliest names they can think of.


On Twitter, Jennifer Xiao posted a simple observation that got a hilarious ball rolling: "Dog owners will pick names like max or bailey and cat owners will literally name their cat beef stroganoff."

Cue the deluge of pretty kitties with shameless names.

Lots of pasta cats out there. How cute is "Wednesday Fettucine"? Come on now.

No shortage of fruit and fruit-flavored names as well.

Rooty tooty fresh and frutiy kitties, all day long.

Who names a cat "Egg"? Several people, apparently. Egg, Eggs, Eggsy.

CRUNCHWRAP SUPREME. I can't.

Green Bean Casserole is a cutie. But the promotion and demotion of Beans is hilarious. "Grand Marshall Beans!"

And yes, someone actually did name their cat Beef Stroganoff. "Strogi" for short.

But food names are just the beginning. It gets so much better.

Meet beautiful baby Bong Water.

And Mozzarella Television.

Hallway. HALL.WAY. People are so magical.

Missy sounds normal enough, until you find out it's short for Missile Launcher.

And then there's Beanbag. Is her middle name Chair? Hope so.

Stinky and Pot Roast are cute. But Astral Projection (to the Nearest Target) might just take the cake.

Someone shared that their friend had named their huge cat Parking Lot. Another had a cat named Beep. Some shared epically long names like Lady Cassandra Johanna Von Mussel Klossowski De Rolo De Conerty II.

One person pointed out that the reason people feel they can name their cats any old random thing is because they never have to call their cats' names in public. Yelling out "BEEF STROGANOFF!" or "BONG WATER!" or "PARKING LOT!" might be a little...awkward.

But of course, unique names are not the domain of cats alone. Check out this person who named their snake Minecraft Creative Mode and who once had a dog whose full name was Lego Star Wars: The Complete Saga (2007). (Lego for short.)

Going back to T.S. Eliot, he wrote that every cat has three different names—one everyday name that the family uses, one name that's peculiar and unique even among other cats, and a secret name that only the cat knows and enjoys pondering on occasion:

"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:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular name."

Perhaps that's why we give cats such silly, goofy, laughable names. They have their own cosmic, mysterious name we're never going to know, so why the heck not name them Microsoft Windows or Spam Sandwich or Driveway? They're just going to ignore us when we say it anyway.

Images courtesy of John Scully, Walden University, Ingrid Scully
True

Since March of 2020, over 29 million Americans have been diagnosed with COVID-19, according to the CDC. Over 540,000 have died in the United States as this unprecedented pandemic has swept the globe. And yet, by the end of 2020, it looked like science was winning: vaccines had been developed.

In celebration of the power of science we spoke to three people: an individual, a medical provider, and a vaccine scientist about how vaccines have impacted them throughout their lives. Here are their answers:

John Scully, 79, resident of Florida

Photo courtesy of John Scully

When John Scully was born, America was in the midst of an epidemic: tens of thousands of children in the United States were falling ill with paralytic poliomyelitis — otherwise known as polio, a disease that attacks the central nervous system and often leaves its victims partially or fully paralyzed.

"As kids, we were all afraid of getting polio," he says, "because if you got polio, you could end up in the dreaded iron lung and we were all terrified of those." Iron lungs were respirators that enclosed most of a person's body; people with severe cases often would end up in these respirators as they fought for their lives.

John remembers going to see matinee showings of cowboy movies on Saturdays and, before the movie, shorts would run. "Usually they showed the news," he says, "but I just remember seeing this one clip warning us about polio and it just showed all these kids in iron lungs." If kids survived the iron lung, they'd often come back to school on crutches, in leg braces, or in wheelchairs.

"We all tried to be really careful in the summer — or, as we called it back then, 'polio season,''" John says. This was because every year around Memorial Day, major outbreaks would begin to emerge and they'd spike sometime around August. People weren't really sure how the disease spread at the time, but many believed it traveled through the water. There was no cure — and every child was susceptible to getting sick with it.

"We couldn't swim in hot weather," he remembers, "and the municipal outdoor pool would close down in August."

Then, in 1954 clinical trials began for Dr. Jonas Salk's vaccine against polio and within a year, his vaccine was announced safe. "I got that vaccine at school," John says. Within two years, U.S. polio cases had dropped 85-95 percent — even before a second vaccine was developed by Dr. Albert Sabin in the 1960s. "I remember how much better things got after the vaccines came out. They changed everything," John says.

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Images courtesy of John Scully, Walden University, Ingrid Scully
True

Since March of 2020, over 29 million Americans have been diagnosed with COVID-19, according to the CDC. Over 540,000 have died in the United States as this unprecedented pandemic has swept the globe. And yet, by the end of 2020, it looked like science was winning: vaccines had been developed.

In celebration of the power of science we spoke to three people: an individual, a medical provider, and a vaccine scientist about how vaccines have impacted them throughout their lives. Here are their answers:

John Scully, 79, resident of Florida

Photo courtesy of John Scully

When John Scully was born, America was in the midst of an epidemic: tens of thousands of children in the United States were falling ill with paralytic poliomyelitis — otherwise known as polio, a disease that attacks the central nervous system and often leaves its victims partially or fully paralyzed.

"As kids, we were all afraid of getting polio," he says, "because if you got polio, you could end up in the dreaded iron lung and we were all terrified of those." Iron lungs were respirators that enclosed most of a person's body; people with severe cases often would end up in these respirators as they fought for their lives.

John remembers going to see matinee showings of cowboy movies on Saturdays and, before the movie, shorts would run. "Usually they showed the news," he says, "but I just remember seeing this one clip warning us about polio and it just showed all these kids in iron lungs." If kids survived the iron lung, they'd often come back to school on crutches, in leg braces, or in wheelchairs.

"We all tried to be really careful in the summer — or, as we called it back then, 'polio season,''" John says. This was because every year around Memorial Day, major outbreaks would begin to emerge and they'd spike sometime around August. People weren't really sure how the disease spread at the time, but many believed it traveled through the water. There was no cure — and every child was susceptible to getting sick with it.

"We couldn't swim in hot weather," he remembers, "and the municipal outdoor pool would close down in August."

Then, in 1954 clinical trials began for Dr. Jonas Salk's vaccine against polio and within a year, his vaccine was announced safe. "I got that vaccine at school," John says. Within two years, U.S. polio cases had dropped 85-95 percent — even before a second vaccine was developed by Dr. Albert Sabin in the 1960s. "I remember how much better things got after the vaccines came out. They changed everything," John says.

Keep Reading Show less