I’ve never been a fan of baby talk. I’ve never been a goo-goo ga-ga type. My son would often look at me and babble away. I would simply look at him and return the conversation with, “Oh really? That’s an interesting theory. I’ve never heard it proposed that way.” It was funny to me but now that his vocabulary just about exceeds mine and his mouth never stops moving, I’m not so sure.
Yet when it comes to my pets, I become a babbling idiot with drool down my chin. I make up the silliest names. This time I wonder if it’s them looking at me saying, “Really, master? Must you resort to such juvenile speech patterns?”
I’ve always grown up with lots and lots of animals. But I think my pet names got worse once I became an adult with my own fur family. I know you think it’s impossible as I tend to be wordy or, as I prefer to say it, articulate. But without further ado, let me show you how and when my IQ drops about 50 points.
My dog Emma
Emma is a toy poodle that has been with us for a little over a year. She has a cataract in one eye and no teeth (she was a survivor of a puppy mill). Despite her shyness and fearfulness of men, she’s perfect. Except for a few “accidents.”
My names for Emma:
- Eminem (not meant to emulate the singer; I’m thinking more of the candies M&M)
- Emination (my husband thought of this one)
- Baby Girl
If you survived that list, you’re ready for more.
My dog Holden
Holden was a totally amazing Lhasa Apso that we lost last December. Full of personality and joy and attitude (also known as lhasatude). Holden was originally known as Horace and was a retired showdog who was surrendered when his owner went into a nursing home.
My names for Holden:
- Horace (when we were mad at him)
- Blondie (he was a bit of a ditz)
- Garbage Truck Mouth (boy, that breath of his)
I’m not sure where the cake connection came in but it stuck.
My dog Einstein
Einstein was another Lhasa Apso who had quite a different life than Holden. He started his life named Steeler. We think he was from the Pittsburgh area but the name was more suited for his appetite. He would steal any food he could. He ate an entire plate of unguarded French toast. He took a swipe at my dinner plate and swallowed a sharp object. That was an expensive trip to the emergency vet. He was beatean, starved, and abused. But we loved him.
My names for Einstein:
- Frank-einstein (his scar from his emergency surgery was prominent!)
- Junkyard Dog
- Mu Shu Pork (don’t ask me)
Finally, we get to the kitties. I have two cats, Arnie and Josie. Both are striped tabbies. I don’t come up with as many ridiculous names. I think because cats always have the look of just being so far above whatever is coming out of your mouth. You could put a steak in front of them and they would wait to eat it until they were good and ready. But I still torture them anyway.
My cat Arnie
Arnie was a second chance kitty. I got him when he was 6 years old. He’s been with me from my single years living in an apartment to my married years with a full house. He’s been my companion through the years. He’s more like the anti-cat as he’s calm, cool, and affectionate. My husband says he’s more like a dog. I think he’s a mutant alien transmitting information to the mother ship through his gigantic eyes.
My names for Arnie:
- Arnie Barney
- Arnie, Arnie, Bo, Barney
And then there was one.
My cat Josie
Josie is probably my least interesting pet. She’s an overweight cat who likes to lay around. She mostly hides and when she comes out of hiding, she’s looking for food. However, if you pull out a cat toy, especially a laser pointer, you will see that she is always close by. Watching. Waiting.
My names for Josie
- Jo Jo
- Josie Bear
- Pretty Girl
- Fat Cat (I’m a little worried about this one giving her a complex)
And that wraps up my fur family. When it comes to my human family, I’m not so much about nicknames. I’m not as soft and squishy as I am with animals. Maybe it’s because I know they can’t and won’t ridicule me for sounding so foolish. Now don’t you do it.