Where's The Damn Picket Fence? Columns: |
Where's The Damn Picket Fence? |
The Dog With No Name Why should naming a dog be so hard? I discovered just how true this is after acquiring a Cocker Spaniel pup two weeks ago. Rover, Fido, Spot. Now these are all-American names and names which were common when I was growing up. Someone got a new puppy and it took not more than five minutes to come up with a name. Brownie, Blackie, Whitey. That's all there was to it. No frustrations and you could go back to your day-to-day life and never have a qualm about it again. Today is different. Much like naming your own child, your dog had to have the PERFECT name. What started this phenomenon is beyond me; but it has created more headaches than I can remember. We picked up our new puppy, a beautiful male Cocker Spaniel, a week ago. A bundle of delight, he captured our hearts instantly. Buff-colored with golden highlights, he was the answer to our dreams, as he was to be the perfect soul mate for our four-year-old female, Cassie. Cassie did not react like I thought she would. She hated him instantly and reminds him frequently that it is her house, not his. Frosty, my white eight-year-old cat fell in love with him instantly and immediately went into heat. So much for soul mates. "So what are you going to call him?" asked my daughter, prying his sharp teeth from her wrist. "Oh, I don't know," I told her. "How about Baron?" I use to have a dog named Baron that I adored, but she nixed it. "How about Tyler?" she asked, retrieving her slipper from the little monster's jaws. "Nah," I said, "I know! I'll look dog names up on the internet!" There were so many names on the internet that it made my head spin. Aspen, Bandit, Barkley. Nah. Dakota, Daiquiri, Doonsesbury. Nah. Tanner, Dillon, Jake, Lucas, Taisen, Hunter, Gunner, Scout, Brewskie, Hooch, the list goes on. Nothing seemed to fit. Until I came to Boner. Now, this could get pretty interesting. You are sitting in the veterinarian's office and it's your pooch's turn for shots. The receptionist calls out, "Boner? Does anyone have a Boner?" Or, you're having dinner in a restaurant and your preacher is sitting at the next table. The conversation is light and talk reverts to your pets. "My dog is named Maxie," your dinner companion comments. "What is your dog's name?" "I have a Boner," you reply. Imagine all the fun you could have with this. You could arrange to have your pet buried next to you and on your headstone, you could have, "Although I passed with much unhappiness, I died with a good Boner" or "I lie here today with a Boner that brought me much joy throughout my later years." Unfortunately, not everyone in my family has my eclectic sense of humor. So, the dog remains, nameless. The dog is going on nine weeks old now. He has gone from Snoopy to Kujo. I rather like Kujo, but for some odd reason, my vote doesn't count anymore. Will you please help me name my dog so he doesn't go through the rest of his life as "The Dog With No Name?" After all, what's a dog good for if he doesn't have a name or a good Boner? © Dorothy Thompson 2002 |
Where's The Damn Picket Fence? Columns: |
TM |
All text, artwork, and html coding, except where otherwise indicated by individuals, Copyright 2001, 2002 The Writer's Life All rights reserved Best viewed in a current version of MS Internet Explorer |
