I can never tell if people become their names, or if their names become them.
My fantastically name brother Aradan has always had a less-than-typical, near-ethereal worldview, and a penchant for similar exotically A-named chick counterparts.
Even ironic names -- like foul-tempered cat Grace or the lecherous Munchkin -- can provide some kind of insight into their characters as beings. Grace eventually found her meditational zen after listening to a few warbly bars of "Amazing Grace" while being petted. And Munchkin, well, he was barely a dog anyway, so the ignoble name only further exacerbated his tragic plight as a dirty old man stuck in an adorable body.
My name has never felt entirely like my own. For most of my life I think I have seen it as an unnuanced label applied haphazardly to my delicate and complicated soul -- naturally. But, then again, people have been calling me my sister's name my whole life, which is basically the same name if spoken with a lisp (which I used to). And besides, my temperament could never withstand an embarrassingly girly name like Ashley or Jessica or Kristen or Cathy or, shudder, Jennifer. At least my name does have that tomboy-cum-peasant-lass ring to it that sort of suits my earthen charms.
So, it was with much responsibility that Heidi (who has grown into her own milkmaiden call sign) and I mulled the naming of our newly adopted shelter dog.
Given the unattractive and short name Paz during her short time at the shelter, our newly adopted pet arrived in our care a terrifically gaunt, tick-carpeted, almost-boonie dog, who has clearly seen one too many litters.
Immediately we considered names inspired by Battlestar Galactica, because there are certainly not enough dogs named Cylon or Caprica Six. Given the dog's affection for Heidi (she seems to have chosen her at the shelter and Heidi was powerless against her manipulative sad stare) we also considered iterations of Heidi's name -- Adelaide or Adelheide, which might not be a real iteration of Heidi, but simply something that my zany best friend in high school Cathy (who now calls herself Cate) made up.
Heidi also said she always wanted a dog named Sunshine, which seemed like it might work, since "You are my sunshine" is the only song I know more than one line to. Plus she's yellow (suprisingly) -- a fact we discovered after the tick exodus.
If we named her Sunshine we could also put "Sunny" in quotation marks in her name and make her run for local office -- like so many of the Anthony "Tonys" and Jonathan "Jons" and James "Jims" and Michael "Mikes" who seem to feel the need to publicize their incredibly common nicknames on campaign posters here.
I thought Worms might be an appropriate -- if unflattering -- name, given the large quantity of parasites she was infected with (and threw up) when we got first her. In the same vein, it occurred to me Pandora might be a good name, because like the metaphoric box from which sprang all the world's sins, she was carrying with her a bevy of costly (albeit treatable) ills.
In a flash of brilliance, I decided while I was walking her that I like the name Prudence, due in no small part to her rather finicky disposition when peeing. If we named her Prudence, we could also call her "Pru" for short, like the Shannon Doherty character on that show about witches that I will pretend that I don't know the name to. And also, Prudence Pandora Paz is kind of the most stupid name for a dog ever.
After reading many a local obituary, Heidi realized that we didn't need to choose just one (or three) names, when six or seven would do. Thus: Adelhaide Cylon Caprica-Six Prudence Sunshine Pazaline "Paz/Mama Paz/Ticky" Gabriela Thompson (familian Boonie-Mutt), of Chalan Pago, formerly Yigo.
For now, since that doesn't really fit on a dog tag, and people keep asking me her name, I have to call her something that sounds vaguely like a real name. And Paz seems to be slipping off the tip of my tongue more than Prudence Pandora or Sunshine or Adelhaide Cylon Caprica-Six Prudence Sunshine Pazaline "Paz/Mama Paz/Ticky" Gabriela Thompson (familian Boonie-Mutt), of Chalan Pago, formerly Yigo.
And while Paz wouldn't necessarily be the first name I chose if deciding to newly anoint some creature, maybe it's not up to me.
Paz, which means peace, does seem oddly fitting for a dog whose main pastime is lying sedately on our bed, looking as if she has no desire to do anything, or be anywhere, but here.
Plus, Paz works nicely in that Lady Gaga song that goes "Ra Ra Ra-Ra-Ra" that I actually don't know the name too, but plan on making Paz's new theme song.
Having decided on the name of our adorable son almost exactly a year ago, and also in that time chosen a Hebrew name for myself, I've spent a lot of time thinking about names in the last 2 years. I came to several conclusions, which mostly don't apply to pets but I'll share them anyway because that's what blogs are for, right?
ReplyDelete1) For me, the spelling is really important. I don't know why, but it is. My reaction to some names went from disgust or ridicule to top of the list depending on how it was spelled. Introducing some weird or cutsie spelling just for the sake of being different (like Elyzabeth) is not appealing. But when there are legitimately different ways to spell a name, I think that says something. It might not show up in pronunciation, but it somehow subtly changes the nuance of the name. 2) Since most of the time names are used orally, it also helps to test out how it sounds under various predictable scenarios. Sure, "Scooter, get down from there right now!" sounds plausible. But do you really want to be standing at your child's wedding when you hear, "I, Scooter David Smith, take thee..." This rule is particularly applicable to pets. "Adelhaide Cylon Caprica-Six Prudence Sunshine Pazaline "Paz/Mama Paz/Ticky" Gabriela Thompson (familian Boonie-Mutt), of Chalan Pago, formerly Yigo, don't eat that poop!" is liable to end up in more eaten poop than you'd like. 3) I think you really have to try on a name before deciding if it fits. I found it sort of presumptuous and weird when some of our friends had already named their child while still in the womb (because of course they already knew the sex, too). I felt like I at least wanted to give the kid the first say. Otherwise, you end up with Serenity entering the world as a screaming, kicking, mad-as-hell-because-it's-cold-out-here infant. Or Caitlyn becomes Cato when it turns out the ultrasound missed a key piece of anatomy. This is not as much a problem for pets, since by the time you've had enough interaction to know you want them in your home, you hopefully have a feeling for their personality. But 4) No matter what you choose, it will quickly come to mean that person (or dog, or cat, or iguana or whatever) and not any of the things previously associated with the name. I recently met a guy named Yes. (Somehow appropriately, he lived in Berkeley). I can only imagine the fertile ground for school yard teasing and slapstick comedy mix-ups provided by that name (at least he's a guy; God help the woman named Yes). But by the end of the day he was just "Yes" and it didn't seem odd at all.
My last conclusion is that choosing names is both daunting and really fun, but also easy to over think. Sometimes the name is already there, you just have to be willing to accept it.