Pitter

Luke's alias 'round herr. Josh's fault, by far. Let me start with our dogs.

Our oldest dog is named Tank. He was half of a pound when I got him. Poor pup was at a local pet store (I know, I know-I don't shop pet stores any more), and he was so tiny that his little feet were falling through the holes of his cage. Saddest sight ever to a dog-lover. I bought him. He's a miniature pincer. Tank was merely a play on words for his itty bitty size. He lived up to it well, because even as an old man dog, he still thinks he is large and in charge. Oh, and entitled I might add (see below with father-in-law). 

His name is Tank, but we call him Moo and Moo Moo. I have no amusing story as to how this came about. I'm just as clueless as the people that give me the dog-head-tilt when I call him that. I am now convinced it was Josh. All Josh. Lord only knows how it happened, but it stuck. It's what we call him. It has now trickled down to our son. 

Josh humorously calls sandwiches samitches and animals aminals. Not because he's dislexic, just because he's Josh. He started out calling Luke caterpillar, because he looked like a caterpillar when we swaddled him. That turned to cap-a-tillar. Then, it was cap-a-titter. Eventually, it just became Pitter. I witnessed this transformation before my very eyes. And I'll be damned if it hasn't stuck. I caught myself calling him Pitter and soon gave Josh credit for being an ear-worm genius. Sigh. I've been had.