What's in a Name

 Toast and Bleeder had a small list of names for me before they met me. After they met me, they didn't feel like any of them fit, so it was on a bathroom break at a Walmart on their drive home that they came up with Casey, and that's what I'm called (thankfully I'm not named Walmart)... except I'm never actually called Casey unless they are introducing me to someone. "This is Casey". 

At home during my formative year I've been called:

Get out of there

No

STOP THAT

NONONONO ABSOLUTELY NOT

DROPIT

what is in your mouth

get out of the sink

don't eat that

that's not yours

SERIOUSLY?SERIOUSLY?

and my personal favorite: I JUST let you out!

Now that I've matured into a regal, perfectly behaved Siberian Husky... I'm still called all of those things, but now I have some new, more adult names.

Princess Squishy Face. This name came about because my predecessor, Loki, would have a temper tantrum and require Toast or Bleeder to stroke his cheeks (a maneuver known as "sleepy cheeks") to calm him down. I don't like "sleepy cheeks". What I do like is to have my forehead smooshed along with a front of ear scratchy motion. Oh yeah, that's the thing. I can sit there all day for squishy face.

Stompy Dog. Hey, I can't help it if Toast and Bleeder are heavy sleepers, and when a pup has to go out, they gotta go out, even at 0330. So..

If they still won't get up, then a well placed tongue in their ear canal usually propels them out of bed quickly. If THAT doesn't work, I just jump off the bed and give them a 5 count to leap out of bed and let me out because I told you I had to go out, and I've proven that when I gotta go, I'm gonna go, house training be damned, my bladder is only so large.

I'm also quite stompy on the couch because if I want to be where you are sitting, then I'm gonna sit there, and that seems to be when I cause the most band-aids for Bleeder. Something about my sharp talons and her old ginger skin. I looked it up, and apparently it's called "senile purpura", which either means she's old and it's not my fault, or it is caused by old cats, and once again: not my fault. To be honest, she can cut and bruise herself doing the most mundane daily tasks, so I'm just being used to cover for her abject clumsiness.

This week, I'm told, I will be transitioning to big girl food. They've given me a tiny bit of it already to try out and I'm not too sure about it. The kibbles are bigger, which require chewing. I don't know if I can commit to that kind of inconvenience, so we'll see how that works out.

Meanwhile, it is Sunday, which means

You'd better turn those pancakes Toast

Don't listen to Bleeder, you can feed me while you eat, not make me wait until the end.

Casey