Why the name Minh? Because Miller seemed wrong.
I don’t often respond to the Daily Prompt, but every once in awhile, it catches my attention. Today’s prompt asks how someone was named.
Sometimes the name of our pets have just come to us, like Thomas. I knew his name somehow before I even met him. Or a cat now romping in the fields of Heaven was Codi, named after a character in a Barbara Kingsolver novel. I actually went looking for a cat willing to be named Codi, and he presented himself.
Codi, of blessed memory
Minh, however, was not one of those names that just came to us. Minh was born as a community cat, and some neighbors befriended him as a kitten. They left food out for him, and the lovely, friendly orange kitty lived in their outdoor spa casing. They named him Miller, because the kitten hung out with them as they sat soaking in the hot tub, drinking beer (Miller, of course). But they really didn’t want to keep him, and they definitely didn’t want to bring him inside. Since I was pet sitting next door, they asked if I would just put out food for the little guy while they were away…how could I say no?
Miller (as he was known at the time) was a total love bug, and knew how to manipulate everyone into loving him, even the postal carrier. It was inevitable that I would fall in love with him as he wrapped himself around my legs . Though my husband and I had promised each other that we would not add any more cats to our home (how many of you can identify with that statement??) we just couldn’t leave this uber-friendly sweet boy to fend for himself. Home he came.
In the end, it was good he joined our household. He had a wretched auto-immune problem that left his mouth a non-stop bloody mess. Medicines were of no use. We finally sprang for the rather expensive removal of all of his teeth, and he has been wonderful since then. Had he been left outside, he would not have survived long.
But Miller as a name just wasn’t in the cards for us. We wanted a name that maybe sounded like Miller, since he knew his name, but wasn’t Miller. Naming a cat after beer…not really for us. So online we went, looking for something that would suit the little guy. Minh (sounds a little like Miller, right??) presented itself. Vietnamese in origin, it means clever or bright. Fitting for a cat who was smart enough to con his way into our home and into our pocketbook. You can’t tell me this little guy didn’t know what he needed and exactly how to get it. Or that he doesn’t continue to practice those skills to this day.