Have you ever really thought about how people choose the names for their pets? There are always the generic names, the default settings reserved for those people whose imaginations do not extend much farther than the agricultural revolution; I mean, these people still think the plow is a novel idea. Names like Fluffy, Spot, Spike, Butch, and Tweety abound in such neolithic homes. Then there are those who insist that they are far too important to have active imaginations at all. They inflict their pets with names like Princess, King, Poopsie, and the all time favorite Archduke Reginald Arthur Mephistopheles the Third. With nomenclature like that, how do you call such a creature to you? Granted, you probably wouldn't call the pet in question; such tasks are reserved for the servants and other such plebeians. Just for a moment assume that you were trying to call your pet to you or even trying to discipline him for turning your favorite toupee into one of those strange and not wholly fascinating clown wigs. Archduke Reginald Arthur Mephistopheles the Third does not exactly come tripping off the tongue. In more apt terms, it pitches a tent and stays for the night.
So the question remains, why do so many people insist on outfitting their pets with such unsuitable names?
In my family it has always been the custom to name the creature after observing some of its more pronounced idiosyncrasies. This can backfire, however, and usually produces some rather interesting names.
We had encountered one such problem several years ago when my mother procured a small blue parakeet. She kept insisting that since the bird spent a good deal of his time moving his tail in a back and forth motion, that he should be christened "Tail-wagger". The rest of my family were horror struck and vehemently protested on the basis that it sounded like something a dog would eat. For the ensuing weeks our strike force bombarded her with a list of absurd names that would make even General Schwarzkopf quake with fear (or at the very least blush from impropriety):
Head-bobber, Foot-walker, Eye-blinker, Wing-flapper, Belly-poofer, Beak-talker, Snot-sneezer, Cud-puker, and Butt-pooper (the list continues, but I can't).
After this unending deluge of inane names continued for several weeks my mother finally waved the white flag and called for a cease fire and truce. The name Blue Bum was conceded to, although not entirely by my mother. Blue Bum seems adequate, perhaps not as adequate as Devil's Little Minion, Malicious Kamikaze Demon, or Evil Blight of Early Morning Sound Waves, but we call him Bum for short. We only call him Mad Foaming Monstrosity of a Multiple Disposition on special occasions.
Here's a short list of some of our other pets' names:
Chewbaderd (Actually she was named by another bird)
Oliver Twist (He was a kind of drab olive color and he liked to dance.)
Sasquatch (He has big feet)
Trouble (Kind of self-explanatory if you ask me.)
Mia (Actually named by her former owners. We have since lengthened this out to Mia Culpa, which doesn't really matter anyway, because she only responds to "Hey Stupid")
My other sister has never quite gotten the hang of things, though. She owned a mouse named "Mickey" (very original) and a pair of birds named,"Bonnie and Clyde." Her most recent trek into the wonderful world of naming has been moderately successful. She calls her new bird Aerial. Which isn't too bad, but it would be a lot more interesting if she were to call him Dual Airbags, Anti lock Brakes, Adjustable Steering Column, or even Five Speed Transmission.
So just consider these words next time your staring deep into the mournful, yet menacing eyes of your neighbor's Doberman pinscher dubbed, "Floppy", and realize for the first time the real reason behind why he ate your little sister's cat, "Mr. Flubble." He was actually being quite kind and just putting the poor little beast out of his misery. |
| We know there are usually pictures here, but the U.S. Postal Service failed to deliver the work of our illustrator by October 14th.
We will reprint this page on page two of next week's issue.
In the meantime, we're disgruntled and are going hunting for postal men.
-GDT |
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