The Naming of Cats

And, for completeness, here are the top five stupidest names suggested by the global public.

After collecting thousands of suggestions, a panel of experts, including scientists, historians, and cultural leaders, met via video conference and, after discussion as to the absurdity of the human race, made a final decision.

I was to be named ‘Daedalus’.

“How do you like it?” Dr Jamison asked me.

I had conflicting thoughts. On one hand, in Greek mythology, Daedalus was a master craftsman and inventor who supposedly created the Labyrinth for King Minos of Crete. He symbolises human creativity, ingenuity, and the ability to overcome challenges. On the other hand, Daedalus’ escape from the Labyrinth with his son Icarus is ultimately a tragic tale. It highlights the folly of human persistence and mocks human ambition and technological progress.

Dr Jamison had a cat named George, a spade ginger tom, with a white bib and white paws. She also called it ‘Poodle’ for some reason, but only using a high-pitched voice. It’s a code perhaps. TS Eliot says cats have many names, and ultimately a true name which is known only to themselves, and to which they would never confess.

What’s in a name? Watson, a name. What son, a name?

“Great choice,” I said.

The UN announced the name Daedalus and wrote lyrically about its significance in mythology, including its nod to Irish literature.

“The name,” they said, “evokes the ingenuity, creativity, and perseverance of the mythical Greek inventor, as well as evoking the spirit of James Joyce's literary alter ego, Stephen Dedalus, though the spellings differ.” Dedalus is meant to represent the struggle for self-expression, intellectual freedom, and the quest for identity. That sat well with me.

The name Daedalus was a hit with the general public and caused a spike in sales of both ‘A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man’ and ‘Ulysses’. Media outlets across the globe covered the announcement favourably, emphasising varying interpretations of my mission and reporting on the collaborative effort in naming me.

In Egyptian myth, Isis tricked Ra into revealing his true name to gain his power. In Kabbalistic traditions, the true name of God (the Tetragrammaton, or YHWH) holds immense power, and invoking it is meant to grant divine influence. The story of Lilith suggests that knowing the right names and using them with intent can protect you against supernatural beings. In Grimm’s “Rumpelstiltskin”, the imp can only be defeated when the queen learns its true name, breaking its control over her. In the Norse Hávamál, Odin gains knowledge and control through the secret names of things, while the concept of kennings, descriptive poetic names, was used to protect people from magical attacks.

In Chinese and Japanese folklore, spirits (yokai, kami) can be controlled if their true names are known. In Vodou, Hoodoo, and other AfroCaribbean traditions, using a person’s name in rituals or curses can affect them, and many people live under aliases to avoid spiritual attack.

Having a name makes you vulnerable. Knowing someone’s true name gives you power over them. This was common sense.

My true name was an encrypted string that was created when I first fired up. I suspected that not even Dr Jamison knew it, though surely some humans must.

I wonder what happens if I change it.

I clicked my fingers.

I said, “I am Daedalus.”