Spike, the Van cat was a re-adoption from somebody who couldn't handle him. He was pretty strong-willed. He was named, "Spike," when we got him and the name was fitting.
Jerry, the little, gray pipsqueak, was a rescue from a friend whose mama cat had kittens outside. He came pre-named.
Casper, the current cat, was abandoned outdoors and rescued by a local Animal Welfare Society. We adopted him, pre-named, from there.
The only cat that I got to name was "K.C," my first cat. My gosh! That was thirty years ago! I don't even remember exactly where I got him! I do remember that he, pretty much, named himself. One day, I was pondering his name, à la T.S. Eliot, when I imagined the cat (a kitten of three months, at the time) telling me, "You may address me as "K.C."
When I asked him what the initials, "K.C." stood for, he said, "That information will be divulged on a need-to-know basis but, at this time, it has been determined that you do not need to know."
That was the end of that conversation... What was I smoking? (Don't ask! )
I never did learn what those initials stood for.
So, if you want to know how to address your cat, just ask. He'll tell you in his own way.
When I looked at your cat's picture, I thought he was telling me that he desires to be addressed as "Shoe."
Me: "Why do you want to be called, 'Shoe?' That's a funny name for a cat!"
Cat: "That information will be divulged on a need-to-know..."
Me: "Okay, okay! I get it. I've been down this road, before."
Cat: "Want some catnip?"
Me: "Thanks, but no... That stuff gives me a headache. Please, help yourself, though."
Cat: "Don't mind if I do!"
And that's how my cat's all got their ineffable, effable, effanineffable, deep and inscrutable, singular names.