Recently I was at the movies with my dad. I was super excited to be seeing “IT Movie” with him because the original version absolutely terrified me as a child. My dad always encouraged me to watch scary movies (I joke and call it child abuse) so it was only fitting that we saw this film together. My dad and I aren’t super close, but I love him and enjoy spending time with him one-on-one. So anyways, we were at the movies and dad was asking me about upcoming travels with Wynston when he said to me, “I have some business I want to talk to you about with Wynston.” I instantly cringed. The narcissism was about to get real. He followed up with, “I don’t like that you call Wynston your ‘son.” I looked him in the eye and said, “I don’t care what you think.” And the discussion began.
My dad has a dog named Sophie, whom I rescued from the county shelter in fall 2010. Sophie is my dad’s everything. She’s his princess, his baby, his little girl. Dad began discussing his relationship with Sophie, telling me that she’s one of the most important living beings on this Earth to him. So I asked dad, “You call Sophie your baby. I call Wynston ‘my son.’ What’s the difference?” He didn’t have an argument except for, “it’s just weird. I wouldn’t call Sophie my daughter because you are my daughter.” “Well,” I said, “I don’t have human kids, nor do I want human kids, so my animals are my sons and daughters. In fact, I know plenty of people with human kids who still refer to their pets as their sons and daughters. It’s much more common than you’d think.” My dad had the nerve to say, “I don’t know. I still think you might have kids someday.” “Then you obviously don’t know me very well, dad,” I explained, my blood pressure rising.
After that, my dad no longer had an argument. Beneath his close-mindedness, I think he may have seen my point. Later he brought up my trip again and I said something snarky like, “Yeah, I can’t wait to go with MY SON!” With a big smile on my face, I looked at him as he chuckled and shook his head. Bam.
The thing is, who effing cares what I call my dogs? Whether I call Wynston my son, my baby, my love, my companion, my best friend, they are all terms of endearment. I happen to treat Wynston like my son and as far as I’m concerned, he is my son, so that’s the term I prefer to use.
Disagree, ridicule me, express your dismay – at the end of the day, I truly couldn’t care less.
I know my dad won’t read this blog post because I don’t think he’s ever read one of my blog posts. Those are the people who tend to judge my decisions. So why should I dwell on it? But dad, if you do get wind of this post, just know that I love you and will always hear you out. However, this is 2017, so you need to open your heart and mind a little bit 😉
Tell me, friends. What terms of endearment do you use for your pets?