Honey! What’s our dog called?

An email exchange with Janice from Jabblog brought back a memory that I thought I’d share with you.

First some very elaborate background information:

When you get a pet, you probably want to give it a name. Most people do. (Although, I’ve sometimes thought I shouldn’t have bothered thinking of lovely, fitting names for our dogs. We could have just called them all Cookie. They’re back with you in no time when you shout ‘cooookie’ in a high pitched voice.)

This story is about dogs and their names. People who breed dogs, sometimes have their own rules for naming their pups. Sometimes they name their pups after flowers, or for every litter the name should start with a particular letter, or every pup should be named after a Greek god(dess). And then of course sometimes they have a kennel name, either to be placed in front of or behind the name of the pup.

For instance: our Phoebe is officially called: Kim’s News Look Elegant Phoebe. Kim’s News Look = kennel name, Elegant is the collective litter name, Phoebe is the dog’s name.

Holle is officially called: Bonbon of Clay Diggers. Of Clay Diggers is the kennel name and Holle’s name should start with a B. We thought of Bonbon, because she’s from Belgium and they are famous for their delicious chocolate bonbons. But we had already decided that her name would be Holle.

And then there is Biggles. He’s called Boy O Boy Biggles of Towns Channel. Of Towns Channel is the kennel name. He had to be named after a rose, Boy O Boy, and we wanted to call him Biggles.

So far the elaborate background information.

This is the story:

We have labrador retrievers and used to train them for the hunt. Not that we ever planned to take them on a hunt, but they are retrievers, so we thought we’d let them do what they are bred for. And the training turned out to be a lot of fun for the dogs as well as for us humans. I even entered my dogs (our first labrador retriever Cosy (Cosy Karthuizer Valley) and Holle) in a couple of hunting competitions and we didn’t do too bad. Even won some prizes.

One year our club organized one of those competitions and they asked me to be the one to welcome the competitors and their dogs and tick their names off the list of competitors I’d been given. The list had the names of the dogs in alphabetical order and then the name of the handler.

I’d been given a wonky table and a chair, the list, the numbers the handlers had to wear on their outfit (so the judges knew who it was) and some other stuff, like a pen and a cup of coffee.
Welcoming and registering the competitors went something like this:

Man and very enthusiastic labrador approach the table. Labrador immediately jumps up, puts muddy front paws on wonky table, coffee falls over, pen rolls off, I dive under table to rescue pen, dog dives under table too and licks my face. I pop up again from under the table, wipe face, sit on chair, breathe, rescue list from muddy paws of dog that tries to get onto the table, and with a friendly smile say: “Welcome to this competition. Can I have the name of your dog please?”
Man: “Huh, yeah, thanks. Sorry about that. The dog’s name is Tommy.”
I go through the list of alphabetically ordered dog names until I reach the T: Tabatha’s Turd Turning Harry, Terrible Stinky of the Bean Farm, Twister of the Windy Willows….
“There’s no Tommy on the list, sir.”
”No Tommy?”
”No Tommy. But perhaps his ‘real’ name is different? The name on Tommy’s papers I mean.”
”Oh. Yeah. It is. I dunno. Uhm…” Turning around, looking for his wife who’s patiently waiting somewhere well out of the way of the growing row of people with happy labradors: “Honey! HONEY! What’s the name of our dog?!”
”What?”, woman shouts back.
”What’s our dog called?”
”Tommy!”
”Yeah. I know. But what’s his official name!”
”Uhh, I dunno. Something like Flippy Floppy something something.”

I go back through the list to the F’s. Fast Ada of the Furry Bunch, Fast Eddie of the Furry Bunch, Fast Freddie* of the Furry Bunch (a couple of brothers and sisters had been entered in the competition), Ferocious Brutus of the Nippy Teeth (not a typical labrador name), Foreseeing Trouble in the Woods… “No Flippy Floppies here, sir.”
“No Flippy Floppies?”
”No.”
Man looking back down the line of waiting people, busy untwisting their dog’s leash from other dogs’ leashes: “Hey Harry, what’s your dog called?”
”My dog?”
”Yeah.”
”Willy!”
”Yes, I know, but what’s his official name?”
”Uhm… Stormy Weather’s Weird William!”
”Oh yeah”, and turning to me again: “Tommy is called Stormy Weather’s Wonderful Wilfred.”
Me: “Of course.”

And so I wrestled through the list of dog names, because this wasn’t the only guy who didn’t know what his dog’s official name was. I suggested to the organizers to use a different list next time. One that stated the names of the handlers in alphabetical order. I think it’s safe to assume that most people do know their own names.

When I came home, I asked hubs: “Do you know the official names of our dogs?” Blank face: “Uhhh… no idea.”

 

* All the names of dogs in this post, apart from those of our own dogs, are fictitious. At least I hope so. I made them up. I had to, because this all happened years ago and I certainly don’t remember the names of these dogs.
Fast Freddie was inspired by one of Suldog’s teammates. I hope he doesn’t mind. Wouldn’t it be eerie if he turns out to have a brother called Eddie and a sister called Ada?