I was wondering today, why all my pets have more than one name.
This is Purdy, also known as Perdita (it's Greek for 'the lost one').
But she is also known as Purdy Bird, Purdy Kitten, Peebles and PB. We had a little black and white kitten just before her, but she died of gastroenteritis. I was devastated. Lisa was working in a nursing home at the time and rang one day in some distress as a cat had abandoned its kitten on her doorstep and the RSPCA were coming to take it away, unless we gave it a home, and would dad have it? As I was the one who would be feeding it and emptying the litter tray, I felt her concern was floating in the wrong direction, but still, I said yes.
So this is what popped it's tiny head out of the box, and I burst into tears. It was love at first sight.
A few days later, she went into 'failure-to-thrive mode' and began to fade away before my very eyes. I couldn't bear to lose another one so soon. I got hold of her by the scruff of the neck, looked her in the eye and shouted, "You will NOT die!" She looked at me with a startled expression and decided to live, there and then. She was nine at Christmas. She is my stalker. She sits on my shoulder and licks my neck (yuk!) She is a stunted cat, and has always been tiny. But she has a big personality, and has held her own with the three farm cats here.
This is Tigger:
aka 'Tigger Angel', 'Tig-Pog', 'Tiggings'. He comes to any of these names. He is full of gingerness. He was a feral cat, caught in a net in a field at Gringley-on-the-Hill. We got him at 14 weeks old, as a birthday present for Abby. On his first night in our house, he leapt out of his cardboard box and ran into the corner, under the coffee table. It was pure instinct, but I picked him up, and put him on my lap. He ran back to his safe place under the coffee table. I picked him up. He ran off. I picked him up, laid down on the sofa, and he crawled up to me and laid down with his back under my chin and went to sleep. He stayed there all night, and has been 'my cat' ever since. He is frightened of everybody else, except Mr O. He comes into the stables each morning and says, "Hello!" in a loud, clear voice. He is nine, too.
And finally, as you know, this is Tessa:
I bought her for me. When she was six months old, she woke up one morning and decided she loved Daddy best, and has never wavered. Her faithfulness is an example to us all.
One day Mr O coined the title 'Tessington Bear' for her, and it stuck. (We live quite near a place called The Tissington Trail now, and are much amused.)
She is now mostly known as Bear, or Mrs Brown, and also comes when you call her, using any of these names. In the old days, we used to do Agility and Flyball, but she prefers the quiet life now. She is very good friends with Tigger and Purdy and is far too well mannered to chase the chickens. She is also nine. It must have been a year for obtaining pets.
Do your animals have multiple aliases?
Most preposterous horse injuries
19 hours ago