Imagine having a cat named Cheryl. Or a dog named Craig.
No, nothing cutely ironic like the old-world names Winston, Norman, Gertrude or Molly. And nothing obvious like Bob, Dave or Lucy.
Instead, imagine naming your pet the way you might name your flesh and blood - after your favourite aunt Leanne or Vivian, say, or maybe with your own middle name, Ruth, Tracy, Neil, Eileen or Pat. Not only is this boring human name practice respectful toward your loving pet, but it's downright funny, too.
For reasons probably only understood by a qualified therapist, I find this mundane naming of a dog or cat so hilarious I've gutted myself laughing about on the phone about it to my friend Cathy (whose name I might add, qualifies as a wonderfully mundane pet name). The thought of going into a vet's office and announcing "I've brought Carol for her de-worming," is profoundly funny to me, most likely because there's absolutely nothing adorable about the name Carol. It's a solidly human name intended for humans only. And if pets truly are going to be members of the family, it's high time we christened them with real human names, I say. In other words, it's time we stopped naming them exclusively after old British prime ministers and farm animals.
I'd like to pause and come clean with full disclosure. It's not like I myself have not succumbed to cute pet names. I have long been guilty of the habit. My beloved cat of 20 years, Mrs. Peel, was named after a television character by the name of Emma Peel, from Britain's the Avengers. The beauty of the name, however, was that the show was obscure and forgotten enough that a lot of people didn't have a clue as to the name's origin. From their perspective, Mrs. Peel was just about as weird and mundane as a pet name could get, which meant a few quizzical looks came our way. "Mrs. Peel?" they'd ask. "Now that's an interesting name." "You can call her Emma," I'd tell them, only adding to the confusion. One guy who clearly didn't get the reference even took to calling her "Peel" for short, which has got to be one of the least cute cat names ever. But Mrs. Peel was a ridiculously cute cat (if you'll allow me a mother's bias), so the name inevitably became truncated to cute versions, "Peasey" and finally, "P."
Then along came my dog Dee Dee, which is the kind of name reserved for strippers, debutantes and rock stars. In Dee Dee's case, he's named after Dee Dee Ramone of the punk band the Ramones. He's also named after my mother, whose nickname as a child was Dee Dee. Not nearly so ironic.
Anyway, everybody thinks Dee Dee is a female dog because of his girly name, which isn't so punk rock if you don't know about Dee Dee Ramone. I remember when I worked as a music critic, a colleague was so openly disdainful of my dog's name I thought she was going to ban my dog from her house. "What kind of name is that?" she snarled. "Why don't you name him Rex or Fly or something proper for a dog?"
What she meant was "proper for a male dog," and in her mind, I'd crossed the gender identity line. She wouldn't let up, either.
"Jet?" she'd offer, passing me in the hall at work. "Shep? Sammy? Arlo?"
I'd shake my head, resolute in my conviction that my German Shepherd Border Collie cross be given the decidedly prissy Dee Dee.
If I could go back in time however and re-name him Carl, I probably would, because as it turns out, he's more of a Carl than a Dee Dee.
And, as it turns out, I've started a bit of a trend now that I've started telling everyone about my predilection for mundane pet names. My friend Keith (how's that for a pet name?) just named his new cat Paula.
I think we're making progress.
