Daxy Waxy Puddin Pie and Other Names We Give Our Pets

Everything has felt so heavy lately. The world, the news, the collective nervous system. I wanted to spend this article on something important and a little ridiculous.

Important? Yes.
Nicknames deepen our bond with our pets. Humor lightens the spirit. I think nicknames are how we mark belonging. They’re a kind of shorthand for love. When a dog , cat, or guinea pig earns a nickname, they’ve crossed a line from “pet” into “family.”

We don’t give nicknames to things we’re distant from. We give them to those who live inside our daily rhythms, our private jokes, our emotional world.

Humorous? Let’s talk about our dog Dax.

Her most formal name is Daxy Waxy Puddin Pie. It rhymes, obviously. The “puddin” part comes from the way she melts off the couch. Her front paws hit the floor first, she stretches forward, and her back legs slowly slide down like warm pudding giving up on gravity.

Then there are the evolving names.

She started as Nugget.
Nugget became Nuggito.
One day she was asleep, wrapped tightly in a ball, and suddenly she was Nuggito Burrito.

Dax is also the nosiest dog in the neighborhood, which earned her the name Gladys Kravitz. That eventually turned into a verb.
“Oh look, Dax is gladysing again.”

Then there are the names you don’t say in public.

Dax can be demanding. She believes she is the supervisor of our household and that everything happening within its walls is her responsibility. Somewhere along the way she became Inspector Dickhead.

Our other dog, Honey, seems convinced her full government name is Goddammit Honey!!!

She’s also Honey Biscuit. The diva. The tall one, as opposed to the stout one. She carries herself accordingly.

And this is just scratching the surface. Our house is basically a living, breathing nickname factory.

Most of Dax’s names reflect her vigilance, her intensity, her need to supervise. Honey’s names reflect softness, presence, and her quiet authority.

In some ways, our dogs become mirrors. The names we give them say as much about us as they do about them. Nicknames are a private language. They don’t need to make sense. They don’t need to be explained. They’re part of the invisible architecture of a home.

I’m sure if you’re honest, you have a whole collection of names for your animals too. The sweet ones. The absurd ones. The ones that only exist in your house and make no sense to anyone else.

But here’s where my brain wandered next.

What do they call us?

Mom?
Ali?
Human?
Caretaker?

Am I the primary feeder and Mark the spare feeder?
Am I “walkie lady”?
“Food lady”?
“Cookie lady”?

Do my dogs think of me as their parent? Their person? Their emotional support human? Or do they define me by function?

I’m currently learning animal communication, and you better believe that once I’m fluent enough, this is one of the first questions I’m asking.

“What do you call me?”

And honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready for the answer.