As you all know by now, my compact white wolf hybrid is named Zen (it’s really disgusting, but his name deserves “bolding”). Whenever he has been most outrageous in conduct I do my best Captain Bligh (ala Marlon Brando) impression and mock-shout at him;
Yeah, I know I’m getting weird in my old age, but there ain’t a single one of youse pet owners what don’t do the very same thing!
Let’s hear it!
Is it Blue Mon Chi Chi or what?
WORK WITH ME!
All of you say some sort of strange sotto voce looney tunes sorta weird@ss crap to your pets and I want to hear about it!!! SO THERE! This is the thread to post it in and that’s the last of it. (I think I’ll start a super-universe thread next!)
I have 3 house rabbits, and I live alone (other than the furballs). The highlight of my day, and it cracks me up every time is opening up the door and saying “Hello, is any bunny home?”.
Our cat is named Fido (we adopted her, and she already had the name, OK? It wasn’t our idea).
But when I’m petting her or scritching her head, I often call her Fidelicious. I also just call out “Kitty kitty kitty” every now and then, which my wife insists the cat doesn’t like, but she’s a dog person, so what does she know?
Well, I currently do not have a pet, but my Mom does. She recently got a puppy, and Molly (the puppy) is a smart little girl and was housebroken easily, but, as with all puppies, went through a chewing stage–plus she likes to be the center of attention, so tends to be a brat while Mom is on the phone. I’m on the phone with Mom, Molly’s acting up, and I’m telling Mom that she needs to be firm with Molly, establish herself as top dog, etc. Mom says she tries, but I can hear her–she’s being really wimpy (if she’d yelled as me like that when I was a kid, I never would have come in for dinner!). “Mom,” I say, “you have to be firm.” So she holds the phone aways and says–in a pretty firm voice–“Lizzy* says bad dog!” And if that wasn’t bad enough once, my sisters tell me that Mom often uses my name when Molly has been bad. So now when I come home to visit, my canine sister, who loves everyone, is going to hate me.
*No one, absolutely no one, but my family gets aways with calling me Lizzy, so just forget you ever heard it.
We gave my dog Kelsey (he’s a boy, but we gave him a girl name…sort of like Kelsey Grammar but we didn’t name him after the actor; my mother wanted a Celtic name like we kids have) a middle name. I use it frequently. My dad told me to stop calling him “Kelsey Andrew” at his obedience class because it was embarrassing.
We also call him “Little Guy.” Sometimes we’ll make a joke about something and then say, “Haha! That was a good joke, Kelsey. Kelsey always makes the best jokes.”
We used to have a cat named Ricky Retardo. I used to always hold him up so he stood on his back legs and then I would make it look like the kitty was speaking like Ricky Ricardo and say “Looooooooooo-seeeeeeeeee, I home” or else laugh his “HAR HAR HAR HAR” Ricky laugh.
Well, with our Siamese kitty Saffron, when she’s been naughty I’ll do the ‘Hugs and Kisses Torture’ on her which involves giving her squeezy hugs and singing “Love love love! Hugs hugs hugs! Kisses kisses kisses!”
By that stage she’s about ready to kill herself and says so by meowing her head off.
We call our full-of-beans springer spaniel, Miss Phyllis, “the Philistine.”
All of our pets are properly called “Miss” or “Mister”: Miss Phyllis, Miss Scout, Mister Buster (hey, we didn’t name him), Mister Grimmy, and so on. Except for Tommy Boy, because he’s a dumbshit, and we routinely tell him so.
I had a retired racing greyhound named Roman. He had velvety soft fur, so sometimes I called him Mink. He also could be very persistent in what he wanted, which earned him the additional name of Ming the Merciless. Of course he always knew we were talking to him, no matter what we called him.
After he died, we got another dog named Bobby, because his racing name was Bad Boy Bobby. We hated that, and changed the name to Rob Roy. Of course most of the time we called him Robby, but he also answered to Woobie, which is something my husband called him. If we didn’t want to catch his attention while discussing him, he was called The Woob.
And now that Rob is gone, we have Idol. Can hardly wait to see what that devolves to, as events warrant. He’s Roman’s great-nephew, so who knows what could happen.
I have two cats. The first was aquired about 9 years ago, when she was but a wee screaming Siamese. Her name is Tiki tiki tembo no si rembo cheri beri chuchi pip perri pembo. Mostly I call her Tiki.
She’s named after a children’s book, where Tiki… is the first born son, and his name means “Most wonderful son in the world, who is born first, so he is most blessed.” or some such. The second son is named Chang.
Chang falls in a well, Tiki gets help. Tiki falls in a well, and Chang is winded after running, that he can’t get Tiki’s whole name out. His mother makes him, because to shorten it would be a disrespect. So eventually they save Tiki, but he’s almost dead. And that is why Chinese names are short.
So when I got a pound kitty in March, I HAD to name him Chang.
I’ll try and put the pictures up on the net so you all can ooh and aaaaah at their cuteness.
What seems like a lifetime ago, my family raised Brittanys for show and field. While we never raised any champions, we were pretty well known in our area. I was particularly noticeable on the field trial circuit because young girls weren’t often out in the fields running dogs.
The second dog I raised and trained on my own was named Angel’s Hi-Spirited Gypsy of TM (gotta love those “professional” doggie names!), Gypsy for short. Because her sire was a good hunting dog, folx would often fill up the gallery when I had her out in the field, just to see how she was shaping up. One day, I had her out in the field, and she took off, bolted after somethin’ she caught a whiff of. I scanned the horizon and saw two deer. :eek:
I knew I needed my pup’s attention, and I needed it fast. I did the one thing I knew would stop her in her tracks (little did I know what the reaction of the gallery would be!): At full volume, I hollered: GYPSY ROSE LEE!!
I don’t know which made her turn around and head back my way–the hollering or the ruckus the gallery made.
More cat insanity…
We have a cat named Caroline. My SO always called her Caroline in the city kitty. But this cat is a real shithead (but a sweet shithead), so I’ve changed it to Caroline in the shitty kitty. Makes no sense, really. But everytime I talk to this cat, that’s what I call her.
I have another cat named Double Trouble (his brother is just Trouble). We normally just call him Double, except for some reason I have drawn this out to Double-D-Double-D-Dub. Sort of sing-song like. (am I nuts?)
And then there is my standard phrase when I catch one of them on the counter. As I knock them off, I say “Silly kitty, Trix are for kids”. I have no idea why I do this. Maybe cat fur induces brain damage or something.
I talk to my fish. They don’t have names (except the gold one, the white one, and the ass-ugly Black Moor, with the pop out eyes and the deformed tail who’s first in line for death-by-swirly if he gets any uglier).
But for some reason, sometimes when I feed them, I say, in my best Ernie from Sesame Street voice: “HERE FISHY, FISHY, FISHY!!!” They haven’t answered yet…
