Calling our cat Benedict was like calling a tall chap Shorty. Would he have grown more angelic if we had called him Lucifer?

Benedict as a kitten
The kittens were born in the pitch black in our neighbours’ tackroom. Soon afterwards I went in with a torch and the first thing I saw was a white cross, luminous in the dark. As I am not of a religious disposition Varanges did not become a shrine for pilgrimage, but we did call the kitten with the cross Benedict, after the Pope.
It seemed a suitable name as Benedict was always the leader of the gang. But he was also the naughtiest, the only one to try and scavenge leftovers if we were slow to clear away after a meal.
His name caused no end of confusion as he is male and Bendict becomes Benoît in French. Bénédicte is a girls name. Our lovely lady vet Bénédicte says he is called after her. (We did manage to get reduced rates once but only because all five were there at the same time!).
Since Pope Benedict resigned last week I have realised just how unpopular a name it is. Apparently the most infamous traitor in the US was called Benedict Arnold. He swopped sides during the War of Independence and his name is synonymous with betrayal, like Judas. But, as Benjamin Franklin commented, “Judas sold one man, Arnold three millions”.

Benedict at breakfast this morning
So besides the Pope there are no glamourous role models for our Benedict. He continues to be the troublemaker in our normally peaceful existence. Shouting his usual name Oy!Benedict! has no effect; the only deterrent from his errant ways is the occasional spray of water. But he is probably our most interesting cat.

















