A perfectly good name. Short and sweet. Not Jayne, or Jaine, and certainly not Jean or Joan or June*. Jane. No nicknames, except for Janie, and even then you’re taking a chance. Real risk-takers can attempt the occasional Janie-Wanie (but you’d better be one of the Amazing R’s if you dare to try it).
Nope, it’s Jane, after the Jane who married into the family in the early part of the 19th century, and who is buried in the family plot in Virginia. My parents seemed to have walked up the hill to choose several of my siblings’ names. Or maybe they just liked the sound of Jane!
Jane. A strong, solid name, which I have most always liked. My middle name makes up for anything that anyone might find lacking in a name as simple as Jane. That would be Cecelia.
The cat? That’s Pippin, and another story.
*June is reserved for those really Twilight Zone-ish moments when Judy and I are called June. It’s happened many times, whether we’re together or not, but usually in some context that connects us. Strange.