May I Name Your Pet – or Child? I’m Qualified.
Meet Minnie Pig. She is the newly adopted rodent-daughter of Grandad and Herself at Head Rambles Manor of Small Village, Ireland. Drumroll please: I named her.
Grandad has a very loyal following of certifiable loonies of which I consider myself one. So when he put out a call for naming his adopted rat, a bunch of us answered. Actually he put it a little more forthrightly:
So far, he hasn’t bothered me [or Sandy]. He has, however devoured two of the neighbour’s children and an oil-delivery man. It would also explain the mysterious disappearance of several cattle from the neighbourhood, and how a local vegetable farm lost its entire crop in one night.
The problem then arose as to what we were to call this little turd on legs.
Some of us even tried naming her, while most just insulted Grandad.
I don’t know how “he” became a “she” but it amounted to some kind of “discovery.” I don’t think I need to know more.
Minnie is being well cared for by Sandy, a large and seemingly goofy dog. Minnie pees on herself, runs over to Sandy and Sandy bathes Minnie. Rinse and repeat.
Not a bad gig.