Pet Name Generator

The story

I have trained Edda almost perfectly. She opens the kitchen door when I stand beside it, although she sometimes asks whether I want the kitchen door opened first. This is one of the delays you must allow when keeping a giant. She also knows the blue wooden wheel means a game on the rug. I push it to her feet. She rolls it back. I return it. We can spend a very useful evening in this way, provided she has not decided that moving a cupboard is more important.

My name is Mottle. I am a fox made of seven pieces of enchanted cloth, with a tail which was once part of a particularly good waistcoat. Edda stitched me herself. This does not give her any advantage in an argument about where I intend to sleep. My small room is underneath the writing desk. There is a low screen in front of it, with a gap I can pass through. She can look over the screen, but she cannot put her whole self inside. The room contains a folded scarf and the smell of the chair she sits in to read. I recommend a room like this to anyone acquiring a giant.

On the troublesome morning she said, 'It's my birthday, Mottle.' I brought the wheel. A birthday seemed an excellent occasion for our game. She rolled it once, then got up to hang paper flowers above the table. I took it to her again. She put it on a shelf while reaching for a higher flower. I had to wait until she came down before explaining that the wheel had not asked to go there. She laughed, returned it to the rug and went to answer the door. This was the beginning of the difficulties.

Bren arrived carrying a box with a handle. Osa followed with a cake. I like Osa because she sits down before deciding what her knees are for. Bren put the box on the table and said he had brought something for the little fellow. I am longer than the box, which seemed relevant. Edda opened it. Inside stood a magnificent wooden animal with a red mane and a pair of brass feet. When Bren wound its handle, it stamped twice and made a noise like a spoon striking a bucket. Everyone looked at me.

I took the wheel to Edda. She said, 'He's bringing his old toy to meet it!' This was inaccurate. I had brought my toy to meet her, as I always did. She set the stamping animal on the rug and wound it again. It advanced over a flower which had fallen from the table. Its feet made the rug jump beneath my paws. I moved the wheel behind the chair. The animal was allowed to keep the flower. I could see that it was not yet sufficiently trained for a proper game.

Edda knelt and called me. I went under the desk. She brought the wooden animal closer, saying it would not hurt me. This may have been true, but it was also not a reason for bringing it closer. Bren suggested that she wind it very slowly. Osa asked whether anyone wanted cake. That was the most sensible proposal so far. The animal gave one particularly slow stamp. I withdrew behind the screen and put my chin on the scarf. My tail fitted inside after I folded its best part around my paws.

There is a point in training a giant when you must let her think without assistance. Edda stopped calling. I could see her shoes through the gap. They stayed there for a moment, then moved away. I heard her say, 'Perhaps later.' Bren said the mechanism was rather clever. They discussed its cleverness at the table. I did not need it to be stupid. I needed it to be somewhere else. Osa cut the cake, and the wooden animal was eventually put on the mantelpiece with its handle still.

For a while the house was a manageable place again. The cake plates clinked. Osa rested one hand on her knee without waggling it at my doorway. Edda usually sat by the desk after lunch, and I expected our game then. Today she remained at the table. I watched her blue skirt below the chair. The wheel was still behind the other chair, where I had left it. I waited until I could hear no more brass feet, then came out and pushed the wheel to the edge of the rug.

Bren saw me. He said, 'Here he comes!' All three faces turned. I left the wheel where it was and went back. Bren said he could be quieter. He did say it more quietly. His face remained pointed directly at my gap. There are forms of quiet which are not very restful. Osa moved her chair a little so that its back stood between Bren and the desk. I could see the skirt again, without the three faces. Edda did not come to collect me. I began to suspect that the training was finally taking effect.

By late afternoon the paper flowers were drooping and Bren needed to leave. He picked up the clever animal. Edda said he could keep it for his own shelf, since he liked the mechanism. He looked disappointed. She said she had liked his visit. Both things seemed to remain true while he put it into the box. Osa wrapped a piece of cake for him. Then she went too, leaving her plate by the sink. Edda closed the door and stood with her hand on the latch. I could not see her face from my room. For once she was making no attempt to see mine.

I waited. She took down a flower, folded it and left it beside her cup. Then she sat in the reading chair. She did not fetch the wheel, put a hand through the gap or announce that the house was quiet now. The afternoon light had moved across the floor. I went to where I had left the wheel and nosed it onto the rug. She watched without moving. This was promising. I pushed it across until it touched her shoe.

She rolled it back. It struck a little fold in the rug and tipped sideways, exactly as it had on ordinary evenings. I caught its rim with my nose. Edda laughed, a smaller laugh than the one she had used when opening the box. We sent it between us several times. When I went under the desk, she began tidying the table instead of calling me back. I could hear her washing the cups. My wheel remained on the rug, where either of us could find it.

The next morning she moved the wastepaper basket farther from my gap. I had been stepping around it for months. This was an improvement she had made without being pushed, and I was prepared to take some credit. She also placed the unused paper flowers in the little room. I dragged them outside one at a time. They made an excellent heap beside the chair. She looked at the heap, looked at me and said, 'All right.' You see what can be accomplished with patience.

I have not finished training her. Yesterday she wanted the writing desk while I wanted the space beneath it, and she shifted her feet three times before remembering where my tail was. I moved into the kitchen until she finished. Later she came to the rug. I was busy examining a sun patch and did not bring the wheel. She sat there for a little while, then took up her book. It is important that a giant have interests of her own. Otherwise you may find yourself responsible for all her entertainment, and there are afternoons when a fox has a great deal to do.