I am a feline of many names. Well-earned titles, mostly, along with a few sickening pet names that shall never be mentioned in these memoirs.

Except perhaps by accident. I'll have to edit those out a bit, of course.

I digress. The point of all this undeniably intriguing babble is to say that, well, my name wasn't always Katie.

I know, I know, 'what a surprise', 'wow, what a revelation', 'we were all born without a name, genius' etc. What I mean to say is...

Okay, this is embarrassing. I've not told anyone this for a long time. When I was brought home the first time my name was...

(Sigh)

Marbles.

(Cringe)

Yes, horrific name if I've ever seen one. You can imagine the sorts of jokes I heard from my brothers and sisters. 'Have you heard, sis is now named Marbles!' 'Really? if she ever runs away someone will have lost their Marbles!'

Ha.

Haha.

Yes, loads of laughter. Lets all make fun of the runt of the litter who just happens to be pretty.

They were just jealous. The lot of them were little chubby tabby things, nothing special to look at.

While, admittedly, I've let my figure go a bit lately (10 pounds 5 ounces and it's going down now, thank you VERY much), I was a bit of a fox in my early days. Pretty little thing, I must say. Lovely calico colors with a tabby pattern...

..which apparently resembles that rock humans seem to adore for no apparent reason, marble. I think that factored into the decision but I'm not actually sure. I shall have to ask sometime.

Ah, yes, I remember the naming scene well. What kitty doesn't?

I was raised in a barn, you see. Ugh, don't remind me of it; how much more common do I need to make myself sound, born and raised in a barn?

Anyway, we lived in a cozy little crate thing with our mother. The day my owners came there were 4 of us (one had already left and, lucky him, wasn't within hearing when he got his name so he didn't have to live through the sibling teasing) present. They came into the barn and held us all, looked us over. The leader of the group, the one everyone called 'mom', said, "I like this one the most. She's very pretty." I preened, of course, at the compliments. But then she continued. "So colorful, like a bag of marbles." Pause. "Hello, Marbles, how'd you like to come home with us?"

If I'd been able to speak human at the time I do believe the answer would have been "I'd like that nearly as much as I like getting attacked by dogs, Crazy Bad-Naming Woman!". Sadly I was unable to express myself like I do now.

A pity really.

'Mom' put me back in the crate and left us for a couple of days, during which I was forced to endure hours upon hours of the aforementioned bad jokes from my remaining brother and two sisters.

The day finally came that I went 'home'. Home apparently consisted of a noisy room with an unfamiliar litter box and some noisy contraptions that were constantly belching out loads of heavily-perfumed clothing.

The first night was hell on Earth. I cried so much I'm ashamed to think about it. I WAS only a kitten, though. 'Mom' picked me up time and again and took me away from 'home' into another part of 'home' with soft blankets and a chair that rocked back and forth. "Hello Katie, I mean Marbles," she'd say, and pet me. "Quiet down already." Each time it was the same thing. "Hello Katie, I mean Marbles."

I have no idea who this 'Katie' is. Some phantom cat I've never heard of? A cat in the household I haven't met yet? The first name that came to mind when she saw how pretty I was? It's never been explained to me, of course. However, after that first night I was dubbed Calico Katie II. It's the name that went on my first vet bill, I know that much, so it must've been pretty official.

It was a bit of a confusing time for me. I was never really sure if I was Katie or Marbles...

But, as some wise human once said, "What's in a name?" and so on and so forth. Smart guy. What was his name again? Sharsky? Steak's Beer? (Shrug)

The rest of the name took shape as the years went by.

'...as the years went by...'

Ugh.

Should not have added that last part; I'm not really that old. Honest! It's been less than 7 years since my naming day. I'm still a lively little kitten.

Er...a very noble lively little kitten. Or something.

(Sigh) Leaving now before I say some equally depressing thing.