Last Christmas, Tri-Daughter #3 came home with the gift that just keeps on giving: a Maltese puppy. Yep, a hyperactive, mischievous ball of white dreadlocked fluff. But, God help me, I like her anyway.
Of course I couldn’t let her “given” name stand as Bella, and so (for obvious reasons) her new moniker became P. Diddy…which morphed to Pee Did…which morphed again to Piddy Diddy…which morphed further into Itty Bitty Piddy Diddy..a name which has gained enough currency it now causes her to stand on hind legs and wave whenever she hears it.
Suddenly the 15 year-old rug-resembling Golden Retriever (a.k.a. DamnDog) and Cat the Ripper (the original Smelly Cat of Friends fame) have competition. And it helps my disposition that Piddy Diddy remains in the Great Suburban Outback whilst I’m in the Great Plains. Sorta like a grandchild (of which I have none…yet...that I know of.) I get to spoil her, teach her lots of bad habits and then go home!
I have no idea what the point of this post is, except maybe I figure that one of these days a Tri-Daughter is gonna bring home (dare I say it?) a male of another species entirely. I’m already thinking up nicknames.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
The New and Improved P. Diddy
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1 comment:
I had thought for some reason your family arrangement had you alone in the great plains. From this post it sounds like Tri daughter #3 lives with you? I hope so. It would make my heart feel better.
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