By Jim Hagarty
One of the great advantages for me in owning a dog is the humour he brings into my life and the fun I bring into his.
About the size of a Thanksgiving supper fart, my little poodle Toby has a least a hundred names that I (and other family members) have bestowed upon him over the years and he answers to all of them.
For example, just looking at him today while he sat on the couch hoping I’d give him some of my breakfast, I yelled out, “Hey, Typhoon Bill, here’s a cornflake for ya.” He responded to the new name as though he’d thought of it himself.
And every time he gets a new name, it make me feel good to know that there is no chance that there is another dog in the world with that name. If anyone ever comes across another poodle (or any dog) called Typhoon Bill, please let me know.
Toby’s official name, of course, is Chubbly S. Winterborne III (the S. stands for Socrates). Now, that might sound a bit creative but you can’t really consider yourself a serious nicknamer unless you have nicknames for their nicknames. Chubbly S. Winterborne III, is a little too wordy, obviously, so he is called Chubbles and sometimes Chubby, for short. But not for long as there are 99 other names to use on him, such as Tito Burrito, or (nickname for a nickname) My Little Burreet.
Don’t even get me started on our cats, Archie and Stretchy McFlinnihan (The McFlinnihan Brothers). They are also known as Shredrick F. Wigglebottom III and Squirmford F. Wigglebottom III.
The F. stands for Fartingham, and why wouldn’t it?