Identity crisis. Help!

Today she called me Lollipop. Yesterday it was Sleepyhead. Before that Scallywag and Snuffleduck and Cuddle Bunny. Next day I am her Little Loveboat. I have nothing in common with a boat other than we both move. Good grief, make up your mind, woman.

I am having an identity crisis before her very eyes and she doesn’t notice. Who does she think I am? I know.

I am Lochinvar. Lochy when I’m good. Lochinvar when I am out of favour. That’s a lot different to being a dog called Puddleduck. Possum. Pumpkin Head. Sweet Pea. Furball. Olive Pit (that's because I like eating olive pits. See how knowledgeable I am. Pit not pip!). Mr L (her friend Bene calls me that. Bene thinks I have a sexy little bottom. I like Bene). Sprocket Lockett (Milou's dad calls me that). Snuggle Pot. Cuddle Pie. Frou Frou.

Snuffaluffagus.

I am strong, I am brave. I am determined. Not some snuffy pathetic withdrawn creature with a nasal disfunction. Although she has told me that I sometimes wheeze in my sleep. What does she expect from a dog with a truffle nose. You can’t have it both ways.

At least I can sleep on her bed at night. Not that she has much choice. I am there when she turns off the lights pretending to be asleep and curled up in my most seductive little ball of pearlescent fur. I know what melts her heart. But she has to stop with the names otherwise I will need to see a doggie therapist.