We have 5 cats and a dog, and with each comes an array of stupid names. For the dog, Dusty, it’s D-dog, Duster D, Bug, Bug-a-boo, On occasion Dumbass, Duster D the Terror To All That Are Grashoppers (he likes to chase them down and eat them). Some more but those are the main ones.
For the cats, Callie turns into Callie-woo, Woo Baby, Sneeze Cat, (she yowls whenever she hears someone sneeze) and Black Lightning. Marissa is often known as Rissa Roo, Roo Baby, Rissa, Parrot Cat (because of the fact that whenever I hold her she immediately climbs onto my shoulders and sits on my back). Magdalena is simply known as Maggie,** Molly** keeps her name, as does Penny.
Well, as I read this thread with a mixture of horror and fascination, I took consolation in the fact that I don’t reduce myself to a gibbering fool for my cat, Boojum (or just Boo for short).
Then I remembered my occasional practice of addressing him in my best Yogi Bear voice: “Hey, Boo Boo!”
Tobermory and the Road Warrior are, respectively, “Tobie sweetie” and “Roadie my sweet boy”
But they do actually understand one human word/phrase. That’s “Treat. treat” I only say it when I am opening a can of soft food for them. They don’t get it often and so I’ll wait until they are out of sight, quietly open the can, and then utter the magic words. Both come running, and try to trip me on the way to the dish.
I am not a cat person and yet… I have two cats. Sisters, in fact. So when I get home and see them lolling about together I shout, “It’s the furry sisters!”
I have also been known to refer to them as little girls dressed up in cat suits. Go figure…
I have to respectfully disagree in this instance. I’ve heard this before about Pomeranians, Pekingnese, and toy poodles. These terms, or the variants about a rat/wind-up toy dog in an old wig, would apply to these breeds. A teacup poodle, however, really is a lot closer in size to a farm rat than the big-city sewer rat the above breeds resemble, and my dad’s is definitely NOT a rat in a dog suit or a dog in a rat suit. Why? No self-respecting dog would have fur that looks like 25-cents-a-yard fake shearling off the clearance table at a Woolworth’s fire sale (the dog – or dawg – would commit suicide first), and rats almost always have longer tails than dad’s yapping cat snack. And, yes, she does realize many cats view her as a snack – she soiled herself (Nos. 1 AND 2) when she heard “The Jingle Cats” first CD. . . .
Marley is know as mars, mooie, mooser, mooser-butt, marley-pooper, marsolio, big lug, fat head, crack head, clogs, big boy, and pooper-butt.
Monkey is almost always called baby, but sometimes baby girl, pretty girl, or little one.
My song is to the tune of “Blaze of Glory”
Wake up in the morning and i pet my kitty cat
Got a furry paw for a pillow
And the laundry was last nights bed
Don’t know where she’s going
Litter box’s where she’s been
She’s a kitty on the run, a “nine-lives” lover
A fur ball in the wind.
My mom once had a cat named Joshua P. Coltrain who she called Pussy Lips.
When I was growing up we had a dog named Susie. Susie got out one day when she was in heat and ended up with puppies. Throughout the pregnancy my mother would tell the dog, “If you ever come home pregnant again, your name is mud.” Sure enough eventually she had a second litter and was thereafter known as Susie Mudd.
Benvolio evolves into Ben, Bennamen, Benjamin, Fat-A$$ (he weighs 22 pounds), Fatty-boom-batty, Shtty-kitty, and Ya Bastid.
Gomez is the new kitten. He’s only a couple of months old, but recently he’s developed into Shtty Junior, Gomie, Kitt-en (with emphasis on the ‘en’), and “Dammit, cat, I just cleaned the litter box!”.
We used to have an orange persian named Wookie. My mom named him that thinking that a Ewok was called a wookie. I explained it to her a million times, but she never got it. People that came to the house used to say, “Wookie? He looks more like an Ewok to me”, upon which my mother would sigh and walk out of the room. Then again, my mother has never been good at naming animals. She named the black dachshund Rainbow and the brown one Lollipop. She named the bird Harry, and the big ol’ tom cat Tripper, for his penchant to walk between your legs. We also had two stray cats, named Starsky and Hutch.
My dog’s official name is Daisy-Bob. Usually I just call her Daisy. But when I’m excited, or like right when I get home from work and she’s excited - it’s always “Daisy-Dinky-Doggie”. And she doesn’t even have a dinky.
Can’t you just hear the goofy baby-voice in your head? - “Hello, my little Daisy-Dinky-Doggie. Who was a good girl today? Were you a good girl? What a good Dinky-Dog”
It’s almost frightening the way we talk to our pets, isn’t it? I’m no better than anyone else who’s posted here. My fox terrier’s name is Max. Except when I call him “Maximillan Von Pupmeister” or “Maxwell Stupid” or “Mommy’s Widdle Angel-Puppy.” It’s sad, really. terribly, terribly sad.
Jess (going off to find the dog and give him some kisses)
