More thoughts on names . . . .

Have you ever wondered why we don’t wait to name our children and our pets until after they’ve been around a while? After we’ve gotten to know them a little bit? Started to get a feel for their personalities?

We all know people who don’t fit their names. I, for one, chose to change my name slightly as an adult. Growing up I was Kathy, which was a popular girls’ name at the time. I grew up in the era of Kathy’s and Debbie’s and Karen’s and Linda’s. It’s also really interesting, I think, how names go in and out of fashion. At any rate, by the time I was out of high school I was feeling less and less like a Kathy. It seemed like a name for cheerleaders and homecoming queens (and I was neither). So in my early 30’s I changed to Kate and have been quite comfortably Kate ever since.

Anyone who follows this blog knows, however, that it’s hard for me to write without including mention of the adorable Mick Jagger, the Rock Star Dachshund who makes my house his very groovy home.

Did I ever tell you why I named him Mick Jagger? Many will say, “YES, YOU DOPE! YOU TALK ABOUT THAT STUPID DOG ALL THE TIME, FAR TOO OFTEN, AND WE KNOW MORE ABOUT F***ING  MICK THAN WE CARE TO KNOW AS IT IS.”

If that’s the case, let me say sorry. Stop here. Come visit another time. Love you anyway!

For all my TRUE FRIENDS, here’s why I named him Mick Jagger. I was looking for a dog on puppyfinder.com, or some site like that. I found another longhaired dachshund named Sophie that was posted by a group called the Weiner Brigade in Trumbull County. I decided I wanted to meet Sophie and made arrangements to visit a lady named Tanya and about 20 dogs and a pile of cats at a farm house south of Rock Creek, Ohio.

Sophie took one look at me, gave a dismissive little “woof,” and scuttled back to Tanya for protection. She was not interested in me in the least, despite my fawning demeanor. Tanya said, well, we do have this other, younger dachshund we are calling Yogi who we just rescued earlier this week. Do you want to meet him?

I agreed, and Tanya’s daughter soon came back with this little bundle of black and tan fur that leaped into the room like he was taking the stage. With all the other dogs and cats milling around, his ears perked up, he stuck his chest out, and started prancing around the room. I burst out laughing and thought, that dog is a little rock star! I fell in love, despite his attempt to surreptitiously poop behind the couch, followed by a mad dash to the bathroom where he deposited another little bundle while finding time to unravel and shred the toilet paper from the roll.

His name was NOT supposed to be Yogi. That much, I knew that immediately. But I didn’t settle on Mick Jagger right away, either. Here are a few of the other names I considered, or that have come to me since that are even more appropriate, given his temperament:

Coach – this was a big contender and I still like it. Part of the idea of getting a dog was to get myself out walking and exercising, and my little dog would be the impetus to get me out of the house.

Hoover or Kirby – who needs a Roomba when you have a dog to scoop up all the crumbs and spills that occur in your home? And I figured a doxie is so close to the ground, nary a speck would be missed!

Sherlock or Watson – after watching Mick hot on the trail of every squirrel, dog, cat or other critter that has walked wherever we’re strolling, I know he is a canine detective at heart. Dachshunds are in the hound family, and Mick makes that evident everywhere we go – his nose to the ground, often oblivious to the actual squirrels that are present but watching from a safe distance.

Bandit – Mick has mask-like markings on his face, but even more to the point, he is a shameless thief! I had to bungee cord the kitchen trash can to the baker’s rack so he couldn’t tip it over and help himself to the garbage any more. He snatches tissues out of the office wastebasket, pries socks and underpants from the laundry chute, and surfs the end table next to my favorite chair in the living room every time I leave the room. He doesn’t care what’s there; he will steal it, whether it’s the remnants of dinner or an emery board. It’s all fair game to Mick.

I could go on and on. He has (I think) the most angelic little face with  beautiful markings and soft floppy ears. But he can be a devil. I got him little red felt devil horns for Halloween (forgive me, Chris – I know you said you did not want me to ever put the dog in costume, but I couldn’t resist).

So maybe  Mick Jagger is the best name for him after all. Mick Jagger singing “Sympathy for the Devil.” Yeah. He’s a bad ass poochie pie.