The Rhyme and Reason of Dog Names at Talking Dogs - #ThrowbackThursday

My friend, Jodi, at Heart Like a Dog blog has been sharing some of her old past blog posts for Throwback Thursday and it has inspired me to revisit some of my own old blog posts and share some of them with you for Throwback Thursday.

 Today I want to share another of my personal favorites that I wrote just for fun.  And, yes, I realize that this was written before Rosie was born, so she's not included.  Hang on until November - her birthday month - and I tell you the story behind Rosie's name.

In the meantime,, here's What's In a Dog Name, originally published on October 18, 2012.

Sources    Most Popular: VPI Pet Insurance      Trendiest: Vet Street

 I've recently read several articles about dog names. Some have been humorous; some explored why we name our pets what we do.  Some have been simply informational.  They all got me thinking about my own dogs and their names.

My first two childhood companions were Blackie Duke, a black Lab, and Skippy, a Cocker Spaniel.  Both were named by my mother.

The first dog that I was allowed to name was my childhood Beagle, Snoopy.  I think the inspiration for that name is pretty obvious (Thank you, Charles Schultz).  Because I was in elementary school, that name had to be approved by my parents.

The true test of my dog naming abilities came with my very first "just mine" dog, Benji.

Benji / Benjamin Franklin

Adopted from an animal shelter while I was still in college, Benji was named after Benjamin Franklin.  Because Benji was a mutt, I remember wanting a very American name that reflected the melting pot nature of our country.  (Seriously.  I thought like that back then.)

Next came another shelter dog, Sherman. I was generous enough to allow the Dog Daddy to select his name (with my wholehearted approval.)

Sherman / Sherman T. Potter

Sherman was named after Sherman T. Potter of television series MASH fame.

When we adopted our black Lab mix from a shelter, I was certain he would grow up to be a chunky, blocky, hunky fellow.

Spanky / Spanky

I named Spanky after that fellow on the right of Lil Rascals fame.  Friends told me I should've used Buckwheat.  Maybe so.  Spanky grew up to be a lean athletic fellow and never resembled a "Spanky" at all.

My Border Collie, Lizzy, showed up at our farm and chose me. 

Lizzy

There was no agony on my part about her name.  She just felt like a Lizzy immediately.  I didn't realize the meaning of her name until I decided to write this blog post.  As I'm fond of saying on Facebook about some images:  TRUTH!

Then came Tucker.  Excuse me while I pause to chuckle. 

Tucker / Tucker Road

He was another stray that chose us.  The Dog Daddy was not keen on adding a puppy to our family right then, so I wasn't sure we would keep him.  Since we had to rush him immediately to a vet, he needed a name fast.Tucker came to us from the road.  We named him for that road:  Tucker

Lucy's name was easy and I chose it solo.

Lucy B / Lucy Bays Bingham

Lucy B was named for my fifth great grandmother, Lucy Bays Bingham who was born in Virginia in 1778 and moved to Indiana in the 1820's.  On the bottom right you can see her cabin which is now in the Indiana University Mathers Museum.  Though I'm not sure my ancestor would appreciate it, Lucy B was named as a tribute.

Jeffie has a big name to live up to and, frankly, there was a lot of debate about it in our house.  The Dog Daddy was persuasive.

Jeffie / Thomas Jefferson

Jeffie was named after Dog Daddy's all-time hero:  Thomas Jefferson.  Depending on present company, we also acknowledge a smidge of Jefferson Davis influence, but that's another story!  

Our poor yellow Lab puppy spent a few weeks with no name at all while we agonized.  Lists were made.  Names added; names crossed off.  When the Dog Daddy began threatening to call him Tator, I knew I had to do something fast.

Rudy / Rootie Kazootie

I'd always wanted to name a dog after my favorite childhood story book, but I wasn't sure the name fit.  Rudy is named after Rootie Kazootie.  Little did we know that as Rudy grew up and "explored" the yard that I needn't have worried. Rootie would have been quite appropriate.


Hmmm...  a little bit of history.  Some popular culture.  Some genealogy and fond reminiscence.   A few snap decisions;  a few that took quite a bit of time.   

Is there a theme or pattern to how we've named our dogs?  

Perhaps it is simply that it is important to us.  Important to somehow reflect ourselves in combination with the bundles of love that are our best friends.  

Follow-up Friday:: Tears and Laughter

 I'm happy to be joining Heart Like a Dog in the follow-up Friday blog hop this week.  This is the blog hop that lets you wrap up your week and leads you right into the weekend.  Hosted by FUF creator, Jodi at Heart Like a Dog and co-hosted today by Emma at My GBGV Life.

What a week of emotion.  First, I had a heck of a time writing my post for the new Give Cancer the Paw blog hop sponsored by Pooch Smooches and Peggy's Pet Place.   It timed perfectly with the anniversary of Tucker's death.  I can't believe that was two years ago; it seems like yesterday.  Then I read JoAnn's heartbreaking news about Norman.  You'll need lots of tissues to read it, but you shouldn't miss JoAnn's tribute to her beautiful boy.

On the other end of the emotional spectrum, we've been having lots of fun celebrating Rosie's first birthday.  Though I'll report on festivities this coming week, suffice to say, Rosie didn't let me spend the whole week crying!  There was a whole lot of laughing when she made her trip to Tractor Supply and picked out her birthdays gifts.  That blur is her tail wagging - LOL.

Rosie shopping for her birthday gifts.

A Puppy Meant For Me
Thanks to everyone for your comments!  I do believe that Rosie and I were meant to be together and I'll tell you more about that in another post.  Here's a teaser:   it has to do with contacting an animal communicator.

Rhyme for Rosie
Like Mary, I lost count long ago of the number of times my grandma said this rhyme to me!  Nope, Flea, her name is definitely Rosie :-)

My Tripawd Dog
Jana says:  "I can just feel how hard this must have been to write."  You are so right.  I wrote a little, cried a lot, then wrote a bit more.  Though this happened a long time ago, not a day goes by that I don't think of Benji.  He was a character and maybe, now that I've told this part of his story, I can tell some of the funny stuff.  A number of you referred to my love for him, like Jen who said: "...I could feel your love for Benji shining through:)"  Thank you.  

Mel noted: "I am so glad you went for that second opinion and had him for so long."  There is more to that part of the story, but I wanted to focus on "the big C," rather than the whole vet issue.   However, I'll note here that Dr. H is Wayne Hunthausen and, among many other honors, he was chosen 2013 Kansas City's Best Veterinarian.  Of course, in my own mind he's "the vet who saved my Bennie."

My Benji

The next Give Cancer the Paw blog hop date is February 6.  I'll be sharing the story of my black Lab, Spanky, and his battle with mouth cancer.  Even if you've not lost a furry family member to "the big C," I hope you'll join the hop and help spread awareness.

My Tripawd Dog | #GiveCancerthePaw

Not a day goes by that I don't run my hands all over my dogs' bodies.  

I'm not just "petting" them and, though I'm sure they think I'm just massaging them, it's more than that.  

It's a learned habit.  It is being vigilant.  And it is a lesson I learned long ago with my dog, Benji.

This a story without a lot of medical jargon and details.  It's just story about a dog with cancer. It happened before I had internet access and before the explosion of traditional and non-traditional medical advances.

Benji, aka Ben, Bennie, Bennie Ennie Ennie, Benopolis, was my first on-my-own dog.  While in college I accompanied some friends to the local animal shelter.  I was going along because I adored dogs.  My friends went with the intention to adopt one.   

There I encountered a 4 month old puppy who was scheduled for euthanasia.  At the "midnight hour," I raced back to the shelter and adopted him.  I had no business with a pup at that time in my life.  

However, he was now mine and I was his.  We were a team of two.  We were halves that made a whole.  

He was my dancing dog.  He was my first heart dog.

My dancing dog the morning of his amputation surgery.

Benji was 3 years old when I noticed the strange little growth in his "armpit."  

We were living a new city and I thought I'd found a good vet, thanks to co-worker recommendations.  When I found the growth, I made a vet appointment.  After examining Benji, the vet washed his hands and told me that since my dog was not a purebred, it was no big deal.   It could be "something," but probably wasn't and since my dog was a mutt...   He shrugged his shoulders and figuratively washed his hands of me.

I was young.  I was speechless.  And devastated.  In tears I drove away.  

Two days later I had an appointment with another vet, thanks to a friend's recommendation.  This vet, Dr. H, was a dog lover.  He examined Benji and decreed that the growth was, indeed, probably nothing, but should come off.  It was in an awkward place where just by virtue of walking, it would be irritated.  Surgery was scheduled.  Growth removed and biopsied.   Benign.

When Benji was 8 years old he had another strange growth, but this time it was on a back foot.  Back to the vet.  

Same song; second verse.  Surgery, biopsy, benign.

Ben on the morning of his amputation surgery.

Benji was 9 when the growth came back.  Same location.  Dr. H warned me that the recurrence was probably not good news. 

Third verse:  Surgery, biopsy, malignant Mast cell tumor.

I was overwhelmed with fear and felt helpless.  

Options were discussed and the case for amputation was made to me by both Dr. H and his partner, Dr. C.   Just the thought of amputation horrified me and that horror hung around me like a dark cloud until Benji taught me different.

Benji, my Doberman / Shepherd Mutt

Benji came through the surgery with flying colors.  In fact, the vet clinic staff just couldn't keep him down.  He was up and hopping around right away.  While they marveled, Dr. H told me he'd never seen a dog with such life force and will to live.

Post surgery

Dr. H repeated that to me many times over the next few years.  Because the odds were that we'd only bought "a little" extra time.  Both vets warned me of the signs to watch out for that the cancer had spread.  Vigilant became my middle name.

Before he wore the muzzle (only while I was at work), we made 3 trips back to the vet to repair stitches. Unfortunately, nothing short of this "get up" worked.

Benji came home early and got right back to teaching me life lessons.  He couldn't dance anymore, but otherwise nothing had changed.  Life was good.

In fact, he was so good on 3 legs that people didn't realize he was missing a leg.  People would play with him and after a few hours exclaim:  where's his leg?! 
 
Benji was 11 when we moved from the city to what we call "the big farm."   He roamed 150 acres with me and enjoyed his new incarnation as farm dog.  Good times.

Benji and Sherman on the farm.

He was 13 when he had his first seizure.  Tests revealed cancer of the liver.  Our vet prescribed a special diet, medication, and offered radiation treatment.  However, that was only available at the Vet School 5 hours away.  

He would have to stay at the Vet school to be treated and I would not be allowed to be with him.  His odds were not good.  He was 13 years old.

Benji, 14 years old

I chose to keep him at home and live with joy on the farm.  As long as he was not in pain, he would be with me.    Benji was 14 years old when he passed away in his sleep.

Benji taught me a lot.  Too much to tell here, but he would want me to tell you this:

• Be vigilant.  Check for lumps and bumps often.  Do not procrastinate if you find something.  Time is of the essence.
• Make sure you have a vet you trust who also has a compassionate "bedside" manner. 
• Amputation bothers humans, not dogs.  As horrific as it sounds (and looks immediately post-op), Dogs get on with life and don't care how it looks.  
• Keep your dog lean and fit.  This was very much in Benji's favor and helped him quickly adjust to tripawd life.
• If your dog is diagnosed with cancer, you need to get your own feelings of panic under control first in order to make good decisions.  Then trust your gut and forget about being perfect - there is no such thing.
• Be positive.  Be hopeful. 
• Live fully in the present moment.

Benji beat the odds and lived a long, joy filled 5 years as a tripawd.

My heart dog, Benji.

Talking Dogs is participating in the Give Cancer the Paw blog hop, hosted by Pooch Smooches and Peggy's Pet Place.  Join us with a  tribute to a lost pet, personal experiences, tips, research - anything related to pet cancer.

Talking Dogs is the official blog of For Love of a Dog Jewelry.