Wiggles, Snorty-Snort, Smukke, and Skat

April 30, 2013

I love the Harry Potter books. I was 15 or 16 when I first read The Prisoner of Azkaban, in which we acquaint ourselves with the "Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief Makers": namely, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Well out here on the homestead we have our own band of mischief makers, and on any given day you might hear a similar array of names thrown about: namely, Wiggles, Snorty-Snort, Smukke and Skat. Allow me to elaborate in no particular order.

Snorty-Snort (aka Pia)

Joey and I decided that if we were going to live in Heber, we needed to get a dog. Everyone in Heber has a dog. So I endeavored to learn everything I could before we ventured into the unknown world of puppy ownership. In all my research the experts told me not to engage puppies in aggressive games like tug-of-war so of course we ignored the experts and now the only time Pia approaches us is when she has a rope or a squeaky duck in her mouth, waiting for us to playfully wrestle it from her. Thus ensues a lively hullabaloo, during which Pia alternates between ferocious snarls, grunts, and snorty-snorts, holding fiercely, if not dramatically, to her treasure.

Wiggles (aka Mac)

Poor Mac spent the first 7 months of his life in a kennel, the unwanted leftover from his litter. We originally bought him because if we were going to live in Heber, we needed to get another dog. Apparently everyone in Heber actually has two dogs. And to keep Pia entertained, because we certainly couldn't keep up with her. And so it was up to Pia (the 7-pound, 5 month-old Aussie Pom) to teach Mac (the 25-pound, 7 month-old mini Aussie) how to be a real dog. You couldn't find a more peculiar puppy on this green earth to undertake the task. Fortunately, Mac picked up on Pia's signature move that we like to call the butt waggle. Both Mac and Pia have nubbins where their tails would be, and they must compensate for that fact by wiggling the entire bottom half of their bodies when they want to communicate. Because Mac is bigger, his wiggle is more pronounced. This flamboyant display occurs whenever we let him out of his kennel in the morning, or walk through the door after a day at work, or simply call his name. Poor Mac. It's a wonder he doesn't get teased by all the other dogs.

Smukke (rhymes with cook-uh)

That's me! Early on in our relationship I taught Joey some choice Danish words and phrases, and this is one of my favorites. It means beautiful. As in, "Hey Beautiful! Can I get your number?" My mission companions and I used this term of endearment on each other quite often, because goodness knows no one else was thinking it. It really got us through some tough times. "Hey Smukke! That giant plastic poncho looks ravishing on you." Or "Hey Smukke! No one will ever notice the 10 pounds you gained overnight from yesterday's triple dinner appointment with the members." Or "Hey Smukke! What a magnificent sight you are riding your bike in wool tights and a skirt through the mud and pouring rain. That drowned-rat look is absolutely stunning." Granted, some of my companions really did pull off the drowned-rat look quite well. So when Joey came into my life in a serious way, I taught him this important word, and now the smart man uses it on a regular basis. Sometimes I think he's forgotten my real name.

Skat (rhymes with cat)

Another Danish term of endearment. I was saving it for future children but Joey wanted it. Technically, Skat translates to "tax" but when used as a term of endearment it translates to "treasure" or "sweetheart". So after Joey comes home from a long day at work I might throw my arms around him and exclaim, "Oh Skat- I missed you so much today!" Curiously, the English word "scat" means, among other things, animal poop. If we take this a step further, as my clever if not entirely compassionate family has done, we might say, "Oh Dear Skat- I missed you so much today." Please take a moment to consider the innuendo........ But I don't care what you say, Joey is my dearest Skat. With a k.