Baby Talk? Maybe

I don't like to think of myself as a stock character, although I suppose other people may see me that way when they hear that I have a Pom. You know the stereotype: a largish middle-aged woman with a tiny dog that she carries around with her, either in her arms or in a tote chosen to complement the dog (and probably her outfit, too); she lets the dog do whatever it wants, feeds it filet mignon, and considers it her baby, talking to it as if it were. Well, I don't carry Tony around, although I do pick him up from time to time, he doesn't sleep on my bed, you know what I feed him, and I don't let him run wild all over the house. However, I do talk to him all the time, and some of that, I must admit, is in baby talk.

I can't help it. He's little and cute, and that just brings it out. I call him by several pet names (and yes, I know that's not a good idea in terms of obedience, but he seems to know I mean him, and when I'm actually giving a command I always use his actual name), including Sweetie (ironic, considering his diabetes), Baby, Cutieboots (I have no idea where I got that), T-Dog, Tony Bambino, Tootsiebelle (yes, I know that should be for a female), and so on. My younger brother, Alex (not the one who gave me Tony), came up with a weird prank when Tony first came here, which was designed to annoy Eric, the brother who did give me Tony. Before Tony arrived, Alex said that we should change Tony's name to "Cha Cha," for reasons I never fully understood. Since then, whenever Alex sees him, he calls him "Tony the Cha Cha," as if it were all one word. I think Tony only hears the beginning of it, but he does answer to it.

I sing to him, too. In fact, Tony is pretty much the only one to hear me sing, since I only do it when we're alone. There's the "Tony-baby" song, the Naptime song, "Me and my baby," and, of course, "It's Bedtime." I sort of use the naptime and bedtime songs as indicators that I expect him to sleep, and they seem to work that way, at least some of the time. The others pop up spontaneously, and sometimes, if I'm holding him when they do, I help him dance (he does a mean Cabbage Patch). Yeah, it's sickeningly cute.

What I don't do is baby talk in public, beyond the pet names. I see this as respecting his dignity, but other people are less concerned with this. My mother, for just one example, talks to him as if he is a baby, without using baby talk per se, saying things like, "Oh, you little sweetie." She's a retired neo-natal nurse, so it's probably an incurable habit by now. When I have Tony out in public, perfect strangers come running up to him and gush over and at him, in torrents of extra-gooey baby talk: "Ooh! What a pwecious widdo sweetie! Is oo a good doggie?" Then they ask what I think of as the Tony FAQ: What kind of dog is he? Is he a puppy? Do they cost much? etc.

Now, I must confess that Tony does have some "clothing," but he only wears it on special occasions. He has a sweater and a coat, both of which only come out in extremely cold weather. He has elastic jester collars for Halloween and Christmas, but I usually take those off of him after everyone has seen them on him, since the bells appear to get on his nerves. He has a special bandanna for the Fourth of July, too. The only truly silly outfit he has is a teeny Hawaiian shirt that I found on clearance back in 2001. I bought it because we had "Tiki'd" the wet bar in our basement as part of a family-reunion sort of thing when my mom turned 70. He had it on for about 20 minutes before he figured out how to get his legs out of it, then he rolled around on the floor until it was off all the way. I never did see how he did the first part of his escape act. I don't put rhinestones, polka dots, or anything of that ilk on him. I still haven't needed to put his "incontinence garment" on him, but I expect him to try to get out of that when the time comes.

So, if you've read Dogology, you can tell that I don't fit any of their categories. And I bet you don't either.