I have moved over to WhittereronAutism.com. Please follow the link to find me there. Hope to see you after the jump! :)

Saturday, January 03, 2009

What’s in a name?

A very long time ago I gave my little brother a cheap and nasty teddy bear. It was very small and constructed in what I can only describe as squares and rectangles.

It might have just passed muster if it had been biscuit coloured but unfortunately it was a pure shade of dun. Fortunately I gave it with love and from the very few pennies in my possession. For some unaccountable reason, he and the bear bonded. He being a youthful kind of a little brother, he concocted a lengthy, convoluted name for a bear no larger than his pudgy little hand. Jumbo Jet Teabags, as he was affectionately known for short, and my brother, were quite inseparable for many a long year. Jumbo Jet Teabags full name, is lost on my weakened memory card, but I believe he had a great number of them, one for each letter of the alphabet.

Currently we own, or rather, we adopted as family members, two cats named Unis and Rascal. They are both boys. They are both brothers. These were the only two names that my children could agree upon. Any pet I have ever owned has always been called either Fred or George. I’m not good at names. I’m great at faces.

I think these things as I sit on the floor with the experiment. The experiment is hairy rather than furry. The colour of champagne, smallish and exuberant. Like most new-borns, he is currently nameless, but responds well to everything from ‘pot of tea?’ to ‘puppy.’

The naming ceremony shall commence shortly.

I hereby declare that I am going to fudge the results. We do have a short list but if you think for one moment that I am going to be running around the neighbourhood park calling Geckcelia / Daddidiogasaurus / Minch Pin/Curly / Darky/ Fluffy Queen / Gorgeous One / Licky /Surprise /Death Wish the First/Killer Junior / Inappropriate Species, then you’ve got another thing coming my fine friend. As head poop collector, feeder, companion and mistress, that hound shall henceforward be named George. And that’s final.


I lied. Puppy will be called Thatcher. I bet you a farthing that you cannot guess why?

Here are a couple of unhelpful hints, “here” and “here.”

Now other people are also in need of such companions such as "Michelle's" family over at "Full Soul Ahead," so you may wish to pop on over and see if you might be able to "help out" with her post called "A Service Dog For Riley."

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