Terms of Endearment

FLIPPY the white one; MAYA the black one.

They are: my sweeties, my babies, my girls, the ladies, my honey bunnies (short form honey buns, singular honey bun), my sweetnesses, my buddies. Yes, I am talking about my fur factories, bags of purr (purr bags), my happy foot girls, my devil kitties – my cats Flippy and
Maya.

Do you ever get this questionnaire - USING ONLY ONE WORD? sent to you? Friends send it to me on occasion with their responses to such burning questions as, “where is your cell phone?” You’re then supposed to delete their answers, fill in your own and send it back to them as well as other friends. Fun is supposed to ensue.

I do find the exercise an interesting revealer of character. For example, for the most part I find it impossible to use only one word. Why the heck should it be only one? Who says it has to be one? Oooooo - what’s going to happen if I write more than one word? It states in the introduction that it’s challenging to write only one word. O.K. fine but that’s not a challenge I want to take on. Mostly I write more than one word and have been unjustly accused of being an over achiever in doing so. I’m not an over achiever, just a rebel. I rebel against the forces of limitation!

My rebellion started when I was answering the question, “Names of your cats?”
That’s when aka started and I realized that it was easy to state the name of my husband in one word – ROD, but not so easy when speaking about FLIPPY and MAYA.

Flippy aka: Flippy Flippy, Fliplit, Poopy Butt Girl, the Hoover, my Big Beautiful Girl, Precious aka Princess, Baby Girl, Baby Kitty, Therapy Assistant, Therapy Kitty, the Greeter, Snaggle, Pink Noser

Maya aka: Maya Maya, M’ya, the Love Sponge, Spooky Girl, Batman Ears Kitty, the Opportunist, Wild Thing, Mama Maya, Sweet Tiny Perfection, Smooshy Girl, the Errant Pee’r, Oragami Kitty, Drip Catcher Girl

Why is that? Why does just the thought of them elicit so many terms of endearment? I think it’s due to unconditional love. I love them unconditionally just the way they love me. They can even barf (even the pre-fur ball barf) on my bed, which means I have to wash my duvet cover and risk a flood reminiscent of the big one that called for Noah to build the ark. But do I call them a**holes? Nope. “Little Shit” is the worst I can muster, but usually my response is more like this, “honey bun… what the hell? Do you have a fur ball coming on? Let go of that ol’ fur ball. You don’t need that thing. You’ll feel much better if you just hork it up.” And I just clean it up and continue loving them without a beat. I accept that they’re just cats being cats, nothing personal.

Wow, what if all my relationships could be like that? What if I didn’t take anything personally? That thought was a revelation to me. What would happen if instead of calling fellow drivers (or anyone else for that matter) who are aggravating me: a**hole! you dumb clot!, idiot!, dull tool!, moron!...(fill in your personal favourites here) I used, not in a patronizing way, mind you: sweetie, honey or baby…(fill in your personal faves here too)?

Well, I have been doing it for months now and you know what? It calms me down, makes me more patient and (dare I say it) I feel more loving in the process. Whether they know it or not, it’s working for me.

So, honey, sweetie, sugar pie have a great one!