As you may remember, our lovely bunny Pünktchen died some weeks ago, and of course, the first thing my dad did when he returned from their holiday was to take the little one to the breeder to get a new one. The guy breeds bunnies for shows, so those who don’t fit his breeding needs are sold as pets, which shows again that those things are stupid as the new bunny is the cutest.
So here’s the first pics of the new family member. Let’s start with Molli, being very hot and not suspecting that life would change again.
Effin’ heat wave when you’re wearing a fur coat.
©Giliell, all rights reserved
And here he is, Fleckchen.
©Giliell, all rights reserved
©Giliell, all rights reserved
Isn’t he pretty?
©Giliell, all rights reserved
Translating his name got me thinking again. Now, first of all, in German we make things small by adding -chen, which doesn’t always work in English. While you get a baby and a kitty, you don’t have a “cary”, meaning a little toy car. Now, the former bunny was “Pünktchen”. A “Punkt” can be a dot, but also a spot, which would be the more usual term for describing an animal’s coat. A “Fleck” is something like a larger dot. It can be a spill on your clothing, but also the colouring of an animal, so now I have two rabbits named for their coat and they could both be translated as the same word in English. So I went with “Patches” because his coat looks more like a patchwork blanket.
Molli and Fleckchen
©Giliell, all rights reserved
Here you can see the first contact between the two, with Fleckchen being in his temporary enclosure, from which he escaped the next day. Thankfully he#s still too young for making baby rabbits.
Hallo, Fleckchen! He’s very cute.
I feel for Molli, the heat is exhausting, even for a less hairy being with the ability to sweat.
I think in Finnish Pünktchen could Täplänen (täplä is the word used for leopard spots) and Fleckchen Laikkunen, Läiskänen or Läikkänen (laikku, läiskä or läikkä can be used for the kind of colour patches cows have), if one were to use the -nen suffix that is among other things used for diminutive*. However, I think calling them Täplä and Laikku would be more idiomatic.
__
* = adding -inen is the way to make an adjective out of a noun and the -inen or -nen in last names is a bit like genitive (the most common last name here, Korhonen could be written out as “the people/descendants of the patriarch who didn’t hear very well”)
Hi! I had rabbits for many years in a place with hot summers. On the advice of a (very) older rabbit keeper I used the trick of filling a 2 liter pop bottle 3/4 quarters full of water and freezing it. Just put the frozen bottle in the pen and the rabbit can choose to lie on it, beside it, or just keep to paw on it to cool down. The bottle would last for most of a hot afternoon, and really helped keep the bunnies comfortable.
The closest English diminutive to “chen” might be “kin” so Patchkin would be nice. Anyway, nice bunnykin!
Oh, that cute little bunny face! How adorable.
The lack of an universal diminutive suffix that can be applied to all nouns, adjectives and adverbs is one of the things I miss the most in English. In Portuguese we have “-inho/-inha” for that purpose and we use it often. I think in Portuguese both names would be easily translated, Pünktchen would have been Pintinhas (diminutive of “pintas”, spots on an animal’s coat) and Fleckchen would be Manchinhas (diminutive of “manchas”, meaning exactly what you defined “fleck” as). Those are both straightforward translations as far as I can tell and perfectly good pet names. They are also gender-neutral names, since the feminine form -inha refers to the feminine nouns “pinta” and “mancha” and not to the bunny itself. The plural form is optional, but it sounds better that way.
Cute but no kitten.
Fingers crossed for Fleckchen and Molly being happy together.
I fell for Molly, I really do, the heat these last days is killing me.
Oh, diminutives for cute animals.
In Czech his name would be “Flíček” which is a diminutive of “Flek” (a word we probably stole from Germans). However in Czech the diminutives can ad so an even cuter rabbit could be called “Flíčeček”. An even cuter than that “Flíčečeček”. Theoreticaly ad infinitum. Yes, it can become silly very quickly.
Saying Flíčečeček with a wet mouth isn’t probably a good idea.
He could certainly be Manchinhazinho for extra cuteness, but I don’t think it can go further than the double diminutive.
On that note, I have a cat called Estrelinha (estrela = star, although she’s not named after stars but after the bird firecrest whose Portuguese common name is estrelinha) and when she’s being really cute I sometimes call her “Estrelinhazinha”.
I had to think about this one (the conversation, not the bunnies, the bunnies are adorable and have all my sympathy re: the heat and I hope they have a happy time as co-habitants), because Pünktchen is easy -- that’s Punktiņš, from punkts (dot) and -iņš, the masculine diminutive of nouns of the first declension (there’s like 6 declensions, if I remember correctly). As for Patches, that gets a little more difficult -- I mean, I could go for ‘spot’ in this instance, which gets plankums (dim. plankumiņš) but it has a vaguely negative connotation -- the other choice is traips (smudge or stain), so that’s a no (although Plankumiņš as a name isn’t so bad). I would probably go for the nicer-sounding raibs, which means something more like mottled or variegated (multi-hued, in any case), and is applied to cows, woodpeckers, and the carnival atmosphere. So it could be Raibiņš, which… eh, kind of doesn’t make sense but would work as a bunny name. Now, when speaking of cows, they’re often addressed as [adjective]-liņa, so a piebald cow would be raibaliņa, a brown one -- brūnaliņa, etc. What that comes down to is that Fleckchen in Latvian would probably be known as Raibaliņš, which is quite alright, since it also sounds very playful. (Interestingly, because ‘rabbit’ (trusis) is a noun of the second declension, the phrase “Patches the Rabbit” would diminutise down to “Trusītis Raibaliņš“.)
Can’t really double the diminutive in Latvian, though… but you can diminutize god, so you can have a cute little friendly god instead of just God!
I love language discussions and trying not to get the word, but also the connotations across is often one of the hardest things. Other bilinguals, do you also know the situation where the thing you want to say just doesn’t exist in one language and you end up substituting the other?
busterggi
Now that you mention it…
Jeanette
Thanks for the tip!
I’ll tell my dad. (The bunnies don’t live with us, here they would be fox snacks within a fortnight)
General update
The bunnies like each other and keep being cute.
Oh my, yes! I’ve had to explain myself many times, either by defining a term in a different language or by trying to explain that I used the wrong word by accident, when I really meant [long explanation]. And then there’s the ‘oh, you mean this word?’ ‘no, something more like this feeling’ ‘oh, you mean like this word?’ ‘no, that one’s too other feeling, more like that feeling’ ‘ah, so this word.’ ‘no, I mean yes, but with extra feeling’ etc. etc.
Then there’s the mixing of the tongues, with my Canadian friends and family, I lapse back into a mix Latvian-English that outsiders cannot understand, occasionally even throwing in some French, depending on who I’m speaking to. However, when I was learning German, I noticed that, when at a loss for the German word, I would often substitute a French one (but never Latvian or English).
Ah, diminutives! Italian has several options for diminutives: -ino, -etto, -ello, and some other rarer ones. There are subtle difference in meanings, although I’m not sure how systematic they are. (You can also make things bigger: -one, -otto. Or make them bad, with -accio).
The problem is that you can’t use them indiscriminately with all nouns! Some combinations just sound “bad”, so nobody would use them. Italian is incredibly finicky with its euphony. Other combinations actually have a different, established meaning — although this typically also requires changing the noun’s gender. For instance: “casa” (feminine) = “house”, hence “casina” or “casetta” (feminine) = “small house”. But “casino” or “casotto” (masculine) = “whore house” or, nowadays, “a messy situation”. Oh, there’s another one in this case: a “casupola” is also a small house. On the other hand, a “casella” (f.) or “casello” (m.) is case or small box. Sometimes you can combine two suffixes: “casettina”, also a small house. Is it smaller than a “casina”? than a “casetta”? Who knows! As you can see, it’s definitely a casino.
I would translate Punktchen as “Puntino” (not “puntina”, which means “thumbtack / pin”, nor “puntella” (f.) nor “puntello” (m.) which both mean “prop / column”). And Fleckchen would be “Macchietta”; certainly not “macchiina” (does not compute phonetically!) nor “macchiella”, which also sounds weird to me although I have no idea why.
rq,
That is interesting. While it is grammatically possible to diminutize god (as well as any other noun, adjective and adverb) I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone doing so. No such thing as a cute little god! On the other hand, the diminutive of devil (diabo -> diabinho) is common, usually as an endearing word for mischievous children or pets.
Although… god is deus and goodbye is adeus, which gets diminutized a lot (adeusinho!). Yes, we diminutize interjections. Also thank you (obrigado/a -> obrigadinho/a). There is absolutely no good reason to do so and it doesn’t gain any additional meaning, but some people do it a lot.
In German there’s also only a diminutive for nouns, and while you could make one for Gott (Göttchen) I have never heard of it.
Diminutives of adjectives etc, as well as double diminutives are common in Spanish and a source of wonder for people like me, though I did manage to translate “hasta luegito” into “bis späterchen” (see you later-diminutive).
What is even better is how they can both double as terms of endearment AND disrespect depending on context and voice, though some like “Söhnchen” (little son, meaning a spoiled brat) have acquired a thoroughly negative meaning.
I also fondly remember a Spanish police officer that he’d take us back to the camp site (I had accompanied a guy whose wallet had been stolen), he just had something elso to do, it would be “un poquitito” poco=little, poquito = very little, poquitito = very very little.
It was three hours…
I would say linguistic posts should also be a weekly feature, but they kind of happen on their own on a regular basis, don’t they! (Fun!)
Also:
Yep, I can do that, too, but in two ways: you can have velniņš, which just means little devil, or velnēns, which means ‘baby devil’ (spawn of the devil?) in the same way a kitten is a baby cat (kaķis -> kaķēns -- I can double-diminutize that, but the --ēns ending isn’t a true diminutive, but a descendantification, a word I just made up).
Also the diminutive of god is very common, less in formal christian religion, but it’s all over folk songs and folk tales (I wonder, though, if it’s a relic of making each line of a folk song scan properly), possibly most common in the exclamatory “Vai dieviņ!” (“Oh dear god!”).
Yeah, Teufelchen are common in German. There’s the idea that we have one god, but there are many devils. Common depictions are that you have one big Teufel and many small Teufelchen around him.
… Who always manage to like furry little feral children, horns and tails optional (though usually they do have cloven hooves).
Yep. The “good” equivalent would be little angels, not the big ones, but the fat baby style ones.
You could call Fleckchen Flecky in English and I think it would mean similar, ie flecked, but with only an overtone of being little. Applying the ‘y’ sound to a name or part of a name tends to be done to children, women and animals, but not to men, although this being English there are of course exceptions to the ‘not men’, like Terry. I know women who will use their full name for work as it sounds more serious where as eg Jackie, Janey, Julie, Jenny etc are both less formal and somewhat infantile, not the image wanted for the workplace.
I don’t know anything but English, but I find your discussions of the differences between languages fascinating.
Giliell the fat babystyle ‘angels’ are cherubs :)
ah. Borkquote strikes again. Well. You will be able to parse it
Giliell,
Ah! Reminds me of a relative of mine who when asked if she wants a piece of cake at a birthday or other party will always answer she only wants a “bocadito pequenininho“. Now, “bocado” = piece, “bocadito” is one of its diminutive forms, so a “little piece”. “Pequeno” means small and is a word with an irregular diminutive: “pequenino” = very small. You can double that diminutive to “pequenininho”, very very small. So “bocadito pequenininho” = a very very small little piece of cake.
Of course in the end she ends up going for a second piece…
Ahhh, Spanish and Portuguese…
In Spanish a “bocadito” or “bocadillo” is a breadroll with something on top.
The last time I was in Portugal I discovered that the Portuguese would perfectly well understand Spanish as long as you were not a Spaniard…
Giliell,
That’s my experience too, and it seems to work both ways. I’ve had Spaniards tell me that they understand Brazilians just fine, but our Portuguese can be nearly unintelligible to them. Similar dynamics seem to be at work in Italian-Portuguese interactions, although those are necessarily more difficult.
Right now we have an Italian student in the lab who is trying to learn Portuguese, I was surprised that she was able to learn it so quickly. Her main problem is with the difference between the verbs “ser” and “estar” (same meanings as in Spanish). I’ve run out of ways to explain it to her. For some reason it surprised me that Italian doesn’t have that distinction, I know English doesn’t, but I actually have no idea about other languages.
@Giliell
I do not have that experience myself, but I was told that many French understand both English and German, but only if you are neither German or English.
I am not sure if it is the same dynamic you had in mind.
Nightjar
The problem is that it’s so effing inconsistent on the one hand and damn flexible on the other. Like the house is blue and you#re married, but one is ser, even though it can change but the other is estar. And then you can make the difference between “está amable” (is being nice) and “es amable” (is nice) and you have lost everybody who just didn’t get those distinctions at their mother’s teat or bottle.
As for the understanding, I always had the impression that it had to do with the historical rivalry between the countries. The last time I went to Portugal we stayed in a small place some 30km east of Porto for a few days and then continued our travels to Spain. And I swear, even before Porto, there were road signs for the last tiny village in Portugal (3 houses, 2 barns, not even a posada) but no sign whatsoever for Vigo or La Coruña. When we drove out of that village there was a sign “Spain 2000m”. The subtext was “there be dragons”.
Charly
Yes, something like that.
Giliell,
Hmm… oh god! For both of your examples I can think of sentences where “ser” would be correct, and other sentences where “estar” would be correct. If meant to stand on their own with no further context I would actually use “ser” with both. Can I explain why? No. I only realized how inconsistent it all was when I was faced with the need to explain it to someone else.
One of my co-workers actually tried to explain it by using the “beautiful” example. The difference between “you *estar* beautiful (today)” and “you *ser* beautiful (always)”. It was so obviously not helpful.
Oh I’m sure that plays a role, but I don’t think it’s just that. From my limited experience I always assumed it was because non-native speakers tend to speak more slowly and carefully, which makes them easier to understand by another non-native speaker. The thing with Brazilian Portuguese being more intelligible for Spanish speakers and non-native Portuguese speakers is because of vowel pronunciation. We mumble an awful lot, they don’t.
But yeah. I have never seen a road sign for a specific place in Spain before crossing the frontier, now that I think of it. They all say just “SPAIN”, usually in all caps, and the subtext most certainly is exactly that.