My previous cat was named Caitlin. Someone dumped her in the campground at the previous state park I was working at. She was all skin and bones (which should have been my first clue she was mentally defective, the campground was swarming with slow-moving, fat, simple-minded rodents) and had recently given birth. We never found the kittens, I suspect they were probably still-born due to how emaciated she was. She wasn't supposed to come home with me, but Animal Control never called me back after repeated voicemail messages were left. So she came home "just for the night". I should have known better. I should have realized that cat had found a permanent home before I even left work for the night. We'd been feeding her small amounts canned cat food every couple of hours, and at the end of my shift, she had stretched out full-length along the top of my desk, put a paw out on my left arm while I was filling out my end-of-day reports, and gone to sleep, purring happily to herself.

I took her to the vet the next day, to make sure she didn't have anything contagious that my landlord's cats might catch, and while at the vet asked J-boy if we could keep her. He said "NO! She's mean to the dog!" Which then led to my asking if he'd give it a week and think it over (and promising not to say another word about it until he made his decision, which I kept to). Two days in, he asks me if we should call her something other than "Hey You" or "Kitty-Kitty". I said: "no, you don't name things you're not keeping" and left it at that. Day four rolled around and we were on our way home from the bar and he said "I think we should name her Caitlin." I looedk at him and said: "well, I guess that means we're keeping her."

Later, I asked him where he got the name. Turns out, he was reading a book about Caitlin Thomas at the time.