Bertie Pierre plays with a patient, and much larger, Leny
In the book, Love Over Scotland, by Alexander McCall Smith, six-year old Bertie has traveled from Scotland to Paris, and has just made some new friends:
"But we should introduce ourselves," she went on. "I'm Marie-Louise, and this," she said, turning to the other young woman, "is Sylvie. He's called Jean-Philippe. We shorten him to Jarpipe. And what, may I ask, is your name?"
Bertie thought for a moment. It seemed to him that the French put in their second names, and he did not want to appear unsophisticated. His second name, he recollected, was Peter, and he did know the French for that. "I'm Bertie-Pierre," he said quickly. It sounded rather good, he thought, and none of his new friends seemed to think it at all odd.
Naturally, when we added the latest rescue dog to our little crew, his name became Bertie Pierre. It does sound rather good.
Be sure to see the Complete Adventures of Bertie Pierre
I'm head over human heels in love with our diminuitive Bertie-Pierre.
And it's the most perfect name imaginable (although I still reserve the right to call him Big Papi from time to time, especially after the Sox win the World Series this year).
I'm sure it will take a while for the name thing to shake out. Beez is still calling him Toro, or Russell (for Bertrand Russell).
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