Nicknames.

I have a habit of assigning nicknames to places, children, and pets, which may or may not reflect some aspect of their character or outward appearance. I probably do this because I am horrible with names, despite being a stable genius.

  

One day years ago I blanked on the name of a shopping center, and instead referred to it as the "crack whore mall." There was immediate understanding in the room, and many still use the name.

   

I named my daughter Stinkfish when she was a baby, swimming in a local pool. Over 12 years later, she's still Stinkfish. People like that one.

  

My son is Possum, but it never really stuck. Can't win them all.

  

My first dogs were Old Dan and Little Ann, named after the dogs in "Where the Red Fern Grows." If you haven't read it, or re-read it within the last year, you're a horrible, horrible person. Anyway, Ann sounded too much like Dan, so she became Baby Girl. Not incredibly creative, but the name followed her around for 17 years. 

The new puppies are finding their place in the "living in a van down by the river" lifestyle we are temporarily tied to. Between camping and trips to Fairbanks, Bailey and Toby have lived more days in the RV than in our house. I hope the transition won't be too jarring for them.

  

Bailey, the almost-white Golden Retriever, has been dubbed "Shih Theed" (phonetic spelling), which I shamelessly stole from BatDad. If you're going to steal, steal quality. Actually, Bailey is a pretty sweet little fluffball, which I remind myself every time I have to buy yet another and progressively expensive type of dog food for his dainty stomach. Then I have to try to pick up the runny poop in little bags so the sheer volume of it doesn't overwhelm the local ecosystem. He poops a lot, and picking the semi-liquid squirts up in the wee hours of the morning is a memory I'll try to repress.

  

Toby, the black Labrador Retriever, is a week younger and much smaller than his brother, but he's the dominant one. He's also a glutton, eating all of his own food and ready to clean all bowl within a five mile radius if given a free hand. "Piggy" is almost too easy, but completely appropriate.

   

Of course, I'd rather they answer to their own names, so I have to refrain from using the nicknames for a while. Maybe they'll stick, or maybe they'll earn new nicknames over the years. Maybe I'll even be able to get their actual names straight with practice.

 

I usually say I don't remember someone's name until they screw something up royally. Then it's a lot easier to remember, often prefaced by an expletive or two for clarity. Nicknames are just easier for me to remember, saving precious brain cells for Britney Spears trivia or finding a cure for COVID-19 (if anyone thinks to ask me).