What’s in a name?

Some time ago (ie nearly a year ago) one of my beautiful girlfriends – Guinness – from the Stoutino Inn and Foster Kennel, interviewed me.

I thought it would be helpful to reproduce this particular question (and answer) because I have made lots of new dogpals since then.

Lots of you will not have had chance to read back and some of you probably still think I am a girl because of my silly name. I am not of course, as you can see if you look rather too closely at some of my more immodest photos.

Here is Guinness’s question and my answer:

1. Darling Handsome Pippa, we have heard how you master & mistress found you and took you in, but how did you get your very interesting name?

Guinness, this one is just so embarrassing. Master and mistress could not decided what to call me. Because I am Spanish they thought about a Spanish name. But José or Pepe or Antonio just didn’t really suit. Besides, the Spaniards that do give their dogs a name (apart from Perro = Dog) usually choose English names, like Jack and Lassie.

So then they thought along different lines. After all they had no idea what I was called before. Neither do I. Their other dogs at the time were called Paddy and Prince. So mistress thought about something beginning with P. Then she remembered the little polar bear she had seen in London when she was young.

He was tiny and white and furry and very cute. He was called Pippaluk (or Pipaluk) and his name meant “the little one” in Inuit. So mistress thought it was a good idea to call me that.

I wasn’t little, although I suppose I must have been at some time, and I wasn’t totally white (although I was more white than any other dog they have had), and she thought I was cute and furry and it was a unique name. She has a strange sense of humour. But then I ended up with it being shortened to Pippa and now everyone thinks I am a girl dog. Well, apart from my girlfriends hopefully.

One day she will find her souvenir book and scan in some pix of him. She has done a little search, apparently he died aged 22 in Poland. He had been moved from London when they closed the Mappin Terraces for bears. Mistress does not think moving bears around who should not be in captivity in the first place sounds very good so she does not want me to write any more about this. Or she will get on her soap box. This is not advisable.


So there you go. And to bring us rapidly up to date, some of my new pals, the Desert Pups, at Life Inside The Fence have given me the following awards: Gold Paw, Kick Ass Blogger, I am an Awesome Blogger Friend, Rusty’s Best Bud Award, and Este Blog a acredita na proximidade.

Thank you very much pups. As usual there are rules which we have not followed, but the Desert Pups said we should throw a big party and invite them. Now that sounds like a good idea and I will bear that one in mind.


Finally just a quick heads-up to remind people that Ben the Rotti has started his week of fund-raising for Nowzad. Head on over to his blog and join in the fun.


Thank you for any comment. Please check back next time you visit, as I like to reply to all barks, woos, and mews

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