As many of my readers know, I have six kitties. Three are about 18 years old, which in human years makes them much older than I. The remaining three are under five.
I take after my dad, who loved animals. He would have had several pets if possible. My mother, on the other hand, felt one pet in the family was more than sufficient.
The latest addition to my lair is a fellow I call Teddy. He’s named after my eldest brother. Ted and I have a history of dubbing our pets with familial monikers. It started with his naming his pug dog Bonnie after our mom. Mother was annoyed.
Over the years, I’ve had dogs and cats. Mother liked them but became critical of the number of cats living at my address. I recall several years ago, just before a visit from mom, a new cat appeared on the scene. I knew she would have an opinion about the newcomer.
Mom arrived, walked into the kitchen and spied the foreigner lying on the floor. As I recall, the ensuing dialogue went something like this:
Mom: “What’s this?”
Me: “A cat.”
Mom: “You know what I mean, what’s it doing here?”
Me: “He lives here.”
Mom: (deep sigh) “Sharon, why do you have another cat?”
Me: “It isn’t something I planned. He appeared and took up residence. I couldn’t arbitrarily dismiss a fellow who is named after your father, and looks quite a bit like your husband.”
Mother often said I gave human qualities to pets, but naming him Fred and noticing a resemblance between the cat and Wally was genius!
At the conclusion of her visit, mom said, “You know he does look a little like Wally. She never questioned Fred’s presence again.
While everyone referred to my brother as Ted, his birth certificate specified his given name was Raymond. Ted would appreciate this little fellow dubbed Teddy, although I guess he could argue that I didn’t name Teddy after him!
Teddy is a big, long-haired, grey, creature. His favorite things are eating, racing through the house with wild abandon, playing with the other kitties, trying to operate my computer, and sleeping on my bed.
The other day I said to him, “You’re just a big Teddy Bear.” That’s when I noticed his resemblance to a Koala “Bear.”
Let me show you:
So there you have it. Teddy is named after my brother — only he isn’t. He looks something like a Koala Bear, but he isn’t one. Some might say Teddy looks like a marsupial lion, but they haven’t been around for thousands of years so who knows? I’ve yet to hear him say “G’day” as he enters a room — so much for an Australian accent.
To paraphrase Mr. Shakespeare, “Teddy by any other name would be as sweet.”