What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet
So [Little Bit] would, were [she] not [Little Bit] call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which [she] owes
Without that title.
    -Act 2, Scene II, Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare

I've had a lot of nicknames in my time.  Some of them I like more than others.  Some I just don't like at all.  Most were given to me by my pack and are expressions of love, while others were spontaneously uttered in response to something I was doing at the time. 

One of the ones that makes me smile is Smally.  My neighbor is not a native English speaker.  While she is quite fluent in English, her long term memory must still work better in Spanish.  

I think that perhaps all of my nicknames say a little something about me and who I am as a dog (or was--I wish I still was eating like I was in the good ole days when I was a twenty-eight pounder).

My bosses are starting to worry about me again.  This is supposed to be my first week without any chemotherapy, but I still have a pair of small bumps (one on each side).  They are going to talk to my doctor again tomorrow and see if maybe I should go to meet the veterinary oncologist in Cincinnati.  I have to say that I'm feeling pretty good, but it seems like maybe I have a little less energy than normal.  When I am up and doing things (like walking or begging for food), I am perfectly normal, but I have been taking maybe a few more naps than usual.   I need to keep up my energy so that I can fight off the evil cells.  Die cancer!  Die!

Well, I'm off to nap in front of the fireplace (yeah, it is cold here again). 

Little Bit