Hinty Pint

My daughter emailed yesterday with the news that she and her family have adopted a dog. A beige Frenchy, 4-years old and apparently the very model of the breed (think television or magazine), with a history that involved the show circuit and some undefined, gauzy relationship with the Iam's Pet Food Corporation. His name is Bow - as in bow tie. Of course we dropped everything, got in the car and headed over to meet the little guy who was doing surprising well for a creature who had only recently been whisked away from an adults only household to one with two small, very squirrelly boys, ages 2 and 5.

Which brings me to the point of tonight's blog. Naming your dog. Some people name their dogs after a secret aspiration of their own personalities. For example, naming a dog "King" might be the projection of a repressed desire to rule over others. Others, I've found, analyze their dogs in an effort to uncover unique doggy traits and name them accordingly. For instance, "Bullet" might be the name of a very fast moving dog. Yet another group of people rely on physical attributes, such as "Spot". But no matter how studied or careful most owners are about the initial naming of their pet, it goes downhill immediately after. Sure, they'll use the formal name in the park or on a walk down the street, but when they get back home, behind closed doors it all goes to hell in a handbasket.

Case in point, Bow is already being called Bow Bow - in a soft sing-song voice that is completely uncharacteristic for my daughter. And she's only had the pup a day.

My own two dogs - whose street names are Jupiter and Zoe have a host of secret family names. Called "pet names" and for good reason. For Jupiter they include: Stupider, Jupe Poopie, Jupe, and Wiggle Tail. For Zoe, it's Curly Girl, Zoe Zoe, Fairy Princess, and Brownie. All of which are used with a variety of voices - some cartoon-like, others high-pitched or with practiced, poor enunciation and all of which elicit the same, happy response from the dogs - and, more importantly, a happy feeling in me when I use them.

My sister has perhaps topped out on the number of names a person can invent and use with a dog. Her dog's actual name is Minnow, but she also goes by Minnard, Leonard, Minny, Whinny, Haw Haw, Hinty Pint, Whoo and multiple combinations and extensions of them (not unlike the conjugation of verbs in a foreign language). Minnow, as you can imagine, relishes all of the physical and vocal gyrations my sister goes through in conversation with her. Of course, Minnow then does her part by tearing madly through the house, jumping up on furniture, and spilling pillows off the couch to her chorus.

So what will Bow's other names be? With his barrel-shaped, untapered body he looks a little like a golden loaf of fresh baked bread (when he lays down and tucks his legs under him that is). It won't be long and he'll have more, and fonder names, I hope. Maybe, "Wonderbread" or "Loafy".

Of course, only time will tell - and only if he truely becomes a part of the family.