Pet-names can be my pet hate (From Bradford Telegraph and Argus)

Pet-names can be my pet hate

8:17am Monday 13th February 2012 in Helen Mead By Helen Mead

If proof is needed that people still read newspapers, Valentine’s Day is a good date to start gathering evidence.

In the days of text messaging and tweeting, it is reassuring to see page after page of messages dedicated to Baby Bunnykins, Cutie Kitten and all manner of creatures.

Even if, like me, you’re allergic to pet names, you cant help being drawn to them. Pooh Bears sending their love to the Tiggers and Peter Pans to their Wendys – they’re complusive reading.

Last year’s T&A saw Monkey Arms declaring his love for Little Nose and Penguin sending love and kisses to Mushy Pea.

I’ve never been in a Pooh-Tigger-type relationship, one in which, I imagine, bedtime involves making room not only for each other, but a host of cuddly toys.

I’m not a pet name type of person, and if I do use alternatives to my husband’s name they’re usually expletives that wouldn’t sit well in a family newspaper.

When we first met, I’m embarrassed to say, he occasionally called me ‘Hev’ as, for a brief time – he thought me heavenly. Since he got to know me properly, however, he thinks of me in the opposite terms and I’m more likely to be called something derogatory.

If you spot a message from ‘Mr Perfect Who Does No Wrong’ to ‘Stupid Ginger-Haired Technophobe Who Can’t Cook or Clean’, that will be his dedication to me.

The first pet name I remember from my childhood was Fluffy, the name given to Joyce Grenfell by her policeman fiance in the original St Trinians.

The Royals love them – apparently Prince Charles and Camilla call themselves Fred and Gladys.

It’s when people start adopting pet names as proper names that it becomes ridiculous. I shared a house with a girl whose name, Wiggy, stemmed from the way she wiggled her bottom as a child.

I couldn’t understand why her parents had encourged her to drop a perfectly decent name – Naomi – in favour of it, and stick with it for so long. Few people knew her real name.

And although it’s not really a pet name, I hate hearing families call each other ‘darling’ or ‘honey’. It’s as if they’re too lazy to use each other’s names.

When I use pet names it is, appropriately, for my pet cat. He’s called Gordon, but he also gets Gorgeous Boy, Lovely Boy, Beautiful Boy and a host of other adoring adjectives that I regularly whisper in his furry ears. If I had any message to send tomorrow it would be to him.