he ain’t heavy…
he’s my brother
This was supposed to be called terms of endearment, but who could resist with that photo?
As it turns out, there are two kittens. The second showed up two days after Brett, half-crazed with hunger and fear and loneliness. I can’t help but wonder how they got separated, where they came from, and what to do with them now that they are here. But that part will work itself out… For now they are happy outside the back door, warm beds at night, all the food they can eat, and apparently, chipmunks for dessert. (Sorry.)
My husband named the first one Brett, and when his brother arrived, he became Sporty. But here’s the thing: I never call our animals by their actual names. Instead, there is an ever-changing litany of nicknames and endearments, and some others for when they are naughty.
Brett had already, before Sporty arrived, become My Puddin’ Pie. And then, his brother, well he became George McFly (he’s a bit of a dork and looks a little like Crispin Glover).
So now, together, they are Georgie Porgie, Puddin’ and Pie.
Our dog’s name is Jake. First there was Shaky Jakey (because he actually shakes when we take him in the car), which turned into Shaky Pants, and then John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt which led to Jingle Jimer, Jimer Timer, and most of the time now, just Jingler.
I never said this was going to make sense. And yes, I’m a little crazy.
Our oldest cat is Shihan (my son was in karate class at the time), but she became Fatty, and then Fatika Blush, and Tiki, and Tiko, Queen Elizabeth, and Fatty Jo Jones. These days, she is often Old Lady. (Right now she is next to me, snoring).
Cinder, who was never a cinder, is Missy and Baby and Crazy Nut and Naughty Tee Tie and Missy Nue. She stayed tiny, the size of a six month old kitten. Twice a day she puffs up her tail, runs around, and roars like a lion. Seriously, she is not meowing, she is roaring. I have seen many cats in my life, but never one that does this. Apparently she is practicing for when we take her to the jungle and release her into the wild.
Charley, whom you met here before, is Charlie Chan, Chin Chan Man, Chin Channy O’Manny, Charlie in Charge, and Kitten Cat.
And last but not least, my Pepe, the cat love of my life, is mostly known as My Handsome Man, which occasionally becomes just Hansa. Pepe has his own story and, yes, I am madly in love with him, and one day I will tell you his story, but this is already quite long, so not today. But it’s not just the animals…
When my son was young he was Moonbeam and Mumpy Toast and Earl’s Too Cool For Me. And then later, much later, he was a teenager and he was Poof, and then Poofie…
But the day came when we went to the cool skateboard store to buy cool skateboard clothes and I said “Hey Poofie, look at this,” and he said, through tightly-clenched teeth, “Can you please not call me Poofie in public?” At least he said please. And I promised to honor his wishes. Except one time, when he hit a home run, I forgot. And I stood up and yelled: “Go, Poofie!”
Well at least I didn’t call him Puddin’ Pie.