What’s in a Name?
It’s now a week and two days since I picked up our puppy.
When I was a youngster, my parents always had a lot of dogs. When I say a lot, I mean a pack. We had four or five all the time while I was at home. I think my mother counted once and found she had owned thirty-six dogs in her life. It was a source of pride to her.
In my time, I remember Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, Boxers, a Basset Hound, Collies, Black Labs, mongrels and Chihuahuas – and a Bernese Mountain Dog and two Rhodesian Ridgebacks. I loved them all, but especially the Ridges and the Bernese.
When I managed to persuade my wife that since I was living at home we could aspire to dogs, she was reluctant at first. She came from a family where a single cat was considered adequate as a pet. Strange household, clearly. Still, she was happy enough to consider dogs – on the proviso that one would be a Ridgeback. She, being new to the idea of dog ownership, and having had bad experiences (as so many do) with a German Shepherd, was only happy to think of a dog she had met and loved: our second Ridgeback.
Over time I’ve been immensely fortunate to have owned two more Bernese Mountain Dogs. They are adorable: big, fluffy bears who love their owners and children, but which are good guards. They will protect their family no matter what. I miss them hugely. However, I’ve been lucky enough to have a Ridgeback too. Our last was a wonderful lady, big, bold, calm enough, never got into a fight, and a lovely companion. Sadly she died last year, so what did we do?
Yes.
I’ve put comments up on Facebook and a few photos (go find me on FB or Twitter – or even Instagram if you want to see more) and I keep getting questions: “What is her name?”
I’m afraid I cannot put my pooch’s name on the web. There are several very good reasons for this. While I have a lot of very good friends out there in inter web space land, there are many more people who are not friends, who are people I will probably never meet, and who are not necessarily very pleasant people. Some of these folks have, in the past, made threats against me. No, not particularly imaginative threats, nor particularly believable. But it has happened.
Others, clearly the more deranged type, see my face and the words “Author” beside it, and assume that I must be a multi-millionaire by virtue of the fact that I have written several books. They assume that they could persuade me to share my money with them, if they were to give me the right incentive. Some could consider kidnapping as a viable means of persuasion.
Such people are, I am sure, few and far between. However, I used to work in the computer industry, I spend much of my life working with plots that involve the nastier aspects of human misbehaviour, and I keep abreast of the crimes and frauds committed.
For that reason I do not ever willingly give out the names of my children (until they’re of age) or dogs. It’s not because, dear Reader, I don’t trust you – but when information is uploaded to the web, you can never be sure where it’ll end up.
Someone who wanted to kidnap a puppy would find it easy to call out a pooch’s name and have the enthusiastic mutt run into their arms. They may regret capturing a hound that has more teeth than a ruddy alligator later, when the flesh is all but ripped from their hands, but I’d still have lost my dog.
So, please don’t ask what the pup’s name is. I hate to disappoint with a refusal!
Tagged: dog, home, hound, pup, puppy, Rhodesian Ridgeback, Ridgeback
