The Origin of Katza

If you know my mother Jeanette, you know that everyone calls her Katza. But do you know how she got this nickname?

Back in the early 1960s, Jeanette moved in with Larry and Jerry in an upstairs apartment on Airline Drive in Houston. Life was pretty simple back then. Family stuck together, neighbors knew one another, and if you were lucky, there was a fruit stand nearby selling delicious golden pears.

Jeanette was especially fond of those pears. In fact, she was so fond of them that she may have enjoyed a few more than her digestive system thought necessary!

And that, dear reader, is where our story begins.

One evening, Jeanette and Larry climbed into his beautiful 1961 Chevrolet Impala to head over to visit their brother Mel. Jeanette had just finished eating one of her beloved pears when Larry suddenly sniffed the air.

He turned to Jeanette with a mischievous look.

“You crapped in my car!” he accused.

“I did NOT!” Jeanette protested.

Larry, of course, began teasing her and before long, he was making up a silly little song about Jeanette and her supposed accident, singing about “Jeanette, the old etchy-petchy” and all sorts of other nonsense.

Jeanette insisted she was innocent, but Larry was having the time of his life.

“That’s it!” he declared. “I’m not calling you Jeanette anymore. I’m calling you Dribbles!”

Jeanette was horrified.

“Larry, you quit calling me Dribbles!”

But Larry was not a man who gave up a good joke easily. He continued calling her Dribbles, and Jeanette continued telling him to knock it off, but the nickname battle was far from over.

Then, just when Jeanette thought things couldn’t get any sillier, along came a cat.

The neighbors down the hall owned a beautiful gray Persian cat with a red ribbon around its neck. It was a pretty thing, but Jeanette wasn’t particularly fond of its visits. You see, Jeanette had a parakeet named Stonewall, and that cat seemed to think Stonewall looked like a tasty snack. Every chance it got, the cat would come racing down the hall and try to sneak into Jeanette’s apartment. Jeanette would have none of it.

One day, she was busy cooking when Larry opened the side door. In came that gray cat, as bold as you please!

“Get that cat out of here!” Jeanette hollered.

Larry took one look at the cat and Jeanette and absolutely lost it. He laughed so hard that tears rolled down his face. Meanwhile, Jeanette was trying to cook supper, protect Stonewall, and chase the furry little intruder out the door. Larry just stood there laughing and calling the cat “Katza” while Jeanette fussed and carried on.

It was quite a show.

And Larry, being Larry, apparently decided that the cat wasn’t the only one who deserved a nickname. The next day, Jeanette came home from work and found that same troublesome cat waiting right outside the apartment door. She slipped inside as quickly as she could and shut the door before the little rascal could follow her.

Shortly afterward, Larry came home and Jeanette said, “Your friend was waiting for you when I got home.”

Larry asked, “Who was that?”

“Katza!” Jeanette replied, referring to the gray Persian cat.

And that’s when Larry had his brilliant idea. He turned around, looked at Jeanette, and announced:

“That’s it! I’m calling YOU Katza from now on! I’m not calling you Dribbles anymore. You’re Katza!”

And just like that, Jeanette’s days as Dribbles were over. From that day forward, Jeanette was Katza. The name Katza caught on like wildfire. Soon, her brothers and sisters, in-laws, nieces and nephews called her Katza.  Before long, hardly anybody needed to call her Jeanette at all.

Of course, Jeanette wasn’t exactly innocent when it came to handing out nicknames herself. She had called Larry “Poochie Boy” ever since he was little because he loved playing with the dogs. She also had special names for all her nieces and nephews. In this family, apparently, your given name is just a suggestion. If you stick around long enough, Katza is bound to come up with something better.

Postscript:

Larry passed away on October 5, 2026. By then, his health had declined and dementia had robbed him of most of his speech. The Larry we knew and loved was often difficult to reach. But this past summer, Mom had one last precious moment with him. She brought him a purple plush cat and began waving it around, calling out, “Yoohoo, look who it is! Katza! Katza! Katza!”

And something wonderful happened. Larry began interacting with her. He started talking, and then he began laughing so hard. For a little while, the old Larry was back, sharing a joke with the sister whose nickname he had invented so many years before. Aunt Ruth said it was the most alert he had been in months.

I can’t think of a more beautiful ending to this story. The silly nickname given to his big sister so long ago became a bridge when so much else had been lost.

One last time, Katza made Larry laugh, and one last time, Larry let her know he was still there. What a gift that memory is.

This is the interview, where Katza tells the story.

https://www.memorialoakschapel.com/obituaries/daryl-jaeger