More musing about names

Just a short post as my laptop is poorly and so I’m writing this from my phone one thumbed !

I visited a friend recently who has a pair of terrier tearaways. Mrs B had to stay in the car glaring reproachfully at me. When I returned smelling of rival jack russell I was sniffed at then very pointedly ignored. Oh dear.

The mutts are are mother and puppy. Mum is a very pretty jack russell whippet cross and pup also has parson jack russell in her.

They are a delightful pair, charging around play scrapping over toys and chewy bones. The rest of the puppy litter have gone to new homes and are all fine fellas I’m told.

Mummy dog really took to motherhood and has changed for the better with it. She has always been super cute but pre pregnancy was a very neurotic little princess. She is now much calmer, affectionate and satisfied with her lot.

Pup is beautiful and knows it. She has supermodel looks and combines manic play with cuddly cute moments effortlessly. I very much enjoyed my cuddle with her.

All the puppies came with brilliant names- Macduff, Attila, Horatio, Nelson, Hercules etc- and I love the rationale behind the names. Macduff is so called so that her Scottish family can cry ‘lead on Macduff’ when they are going for walkies. The others were given big strong names to reflect the huge personalities inside tiny terrier bodies.

What wonderful sentiments (and very cute dogs too)

The Bitey Pseudonym

Without wanting to burst the bubble of anyone that actually reads this (hello world- is there anyone reading me?), Mrs Bitey’s real name is not Mrs Bitey. Those who know the true identity of Mrs B have on occasion asked me where did you dream up that pseudonym from? She doesn’t bite!

Well, actually she does. Occasionally. Only other dogs and notably a fox once. Humans are safe although if you are a mini human attempting to poke her with a light sabre, you are likely to witness a flash of fang snapped in your direction.

Mrs Bitey is more than a pseudonym, it is one of her official nicknames bestowed upon her by my sister and brother in law after Mrs B flexed her terrier temper and bit Hector their adorably dopey lab/lurcher cross.

So what is origin of the Bitey name? Well, the original Mrs Bitey was a ferret or certainly some kind of weasally rodent affair that guest starred on Autumnwatch Live a few years ago.

I stumbled across it in a late night channel surf and normally I dislike that kind of programme because of the dreadfully earnest townie presenters patronising local yokels who are wheeled out to talk about badger shit or similiar.

However, on this occasion, the promise of keen townies getting savaged by a squirming ferrety thing live from a mobile studio in the middle of a cow field was just too great to resist. The producer obviously shared my view as the segment about Mrs Bitey seemed to drag on with said rodent refusing to nip anyone and instead flirting with the camera looking extremely cute.

Eventually one of the presenters drew the thing to a close by saying that Mrs Bitey had not lived up to her name. Bang on cue, Mrs B launched, smug presenter had her hanging off his fingers by her teeth, there’s a bit of blood and the presenter starts squealing like a big jessie. Mrs Bitey’s ‘handler’, who was remarkably slow to react to his charge’s toothy assault and indeed looked secretly satisfied, managed to wrestle her off briefly but Mrs B clamped back on for another chunk of celeb flesh. Suddenly it was all hands on deck and Mrs B was swiftly extracted from the presenter’s hand and spirited off set into a cage, never to be seen again other than on youtube.

I have loved that name ever since.

What’s in a name?

Since the antics of Fenton deer rustling in Richmond Park went viral, there has been various comments in the more paternalistic leaning media about the need to train dogs/ keep them under control.

However, the fundamental issue that remains unaddressed is the question of who in their right mind would call their dog Fenton?

The answer is the kind of smug Boden Clone types that also frequent the Dog Park. My daily visits can confirm that the trend for giving your canine family member a wanky name has also become viral. Only this evening, Mrs B and I encountered a lab who was absolutely beautiful- and saddled with the name of Amos.

Call me ignorant but the name Amos conjures up the thought of a ‘ye’ll be damned’ preacher or a luxuriantly whiskered barman with a sidekick called Mr Wilks.

And not a dog.

It was quite heartwarming to leave the Dog Park knowing that Amos was merrily rolling in a pile of fox shit unbeknown to the Boden Clone busily tapping on his Blackberry. It was even more so as I climbed into the car to the tune of an anguished cry of ‘AMOSSSSSS, NO!!!!’