Page 17 of Training my Human

“Because I have to make money if I’m going to be able to buy enough to satisfy your growing appetite,” Pip grumbled.

A reminder that I needed to begin work on my hoard. My core memories had my kind usually confiscating it from undeserving humans. However, this time period made it slightly more difficult to ascertain what to take. This era used paper for money as well as plastic cards and something called electronic fund transfers for purchases—payment methods that had no tangible value, at least for me.

Gold and jewels apparently remained highly valued, but I’d yet to glean where I could find a sizeable amount to begin my treasury. I also needed to find somewhere to relocate before I began hoarding. The trailer of my human lacked the proper space and amenities for someone of my stature.

“So, there’s going to be a change in our usual schedule,” Pip stated as she bent down to place a plate in front of me that held a stack of pancakes drizzled in butter and syrup. “I’m having dinner at Maddox’s after work.”

“What?” I roared. “I did not give you permission. Nor do you have time to gallivant as that is my mealtime.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” she admonished. The nerve. “Maddox will be swinging by here to bring you over to his place so you can eat with us.”

A somewhat mollifying reply. “Transport wouldn’t be necessary if he lived here.” Although where we’d put the large man remained to be seen. Perhaps on the ground outside the trailer door so he could prevent intrusion?

“I’m not moving Maddox in,” she squeaked, her cheeks turning pink.

“It would be more practical. How else can he properly protect me?” I pointed out. Annoying how often I had to do that, seeing as how my human seemed incapable of intuiting these things on her own.

“Maddox isn’t a bodyguard.”

“Obviously, or he’d be here,” I retorted.

“Listen, Little Fella —”

I cut her off. “Enough of that ridiculous appellation.”

“If you don’t like it then give me something to call you,” she insisted.

“I did. I’ll accept Your Grace, Your Eminence, even Your Majesty works.”

“Not happening,” was her flat reply.

“Humans and their insistence on names,” I huffed. “It is not a simple thing to choose one. It must convey strength. Strike fear in the heart.”

“What was your mother’s name?” Pip refused to call her by the proper title.

“I don’t know. While my maternal progenitor most likely had one, that is considered a personal memory and thus not passed down.”

“Would it help if I told you some dragon names I know?”

“Perhaps.” A lie. I wanted a name that didn’t come with prior association or comparison with my kind.

“There’s Toothless, Puff, Pete, Mushu, Smaug, Drako, Eragon.” She listed off some ridiculous titles.

I waved my paw at her. “None of those convey greatness.”

“How about some ancient rulers?” she suggested. “Like Genghis Khan, Mussolini, Cesar, or Ramses.”

The latter called to me. “Who was this Ramses?”

“Famous Egyptian Pharoah known for his military success and for building some of the most epic architecture, some of which remains standing today.”

“Is this Ramses a common name?”

“Not in Canada.”

“Meaning it is in use elsewhere.” Annoying. I’d rather liked the sound of it.

“If you want a name no one uses, then might I suggest fabricating one?”

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