What IS in a name?

My kids have as new stepsister with an 'unusual' name...so, I had to post this...(This was written, by me, in February of 2009.)
A friend of mine recently introduced me to his dog 'Lucky'...
( a potential 'friend' for my' babe of a foxy beagle mix',Roxy---although she has not approved him on her 'Dogbook')
Lucky's name got me to thinkin'---(yes, I do that a lot...but then, I can find the humor in just about everything...it's bad!)
Whenever you name a dog, cat or child---you need to first see how it will play out when you call them from across the yard....
Apparently, when I adopted Zeus...our beloved 125 pound SPCA special husky/Akita/border collie mix...I was, clearly, not thinking in such a manner. He was black and white, one blue eye, one soulful brown eye, big husky plume tail...and he had a white streak---which looked like lightening---right down the middle of his big dog forehead.
Lightening...powerful...hmmm. AH! Yes! 'ZEUS' King of the gods...PERFECT!
(and then down the road I could adopt another dog and call him 'APOLLO'...wait. Aren't those the names of Magnum PI's dogs? I miss Tom....)
Not that 'Zeus' was not a perfect name for the perfect dog---aka: 'Zeusy boy', 'Juice', 'Big Dog' and 'Trailer Dog'( when he licked the utensils in the dishwasher)...as well as the shared names of many dogs: 'Get down!' and 'No No Bad Dog!'
The problem came with the greeting: 'Hey ZEUS!'...which sounds just like 'Jesus' in Spanish...and living where I do, with a large Spanish speaking population...I was apparently calling on the Almighty One like an evangelical on a Sunday morning...
'Zeus' also sounds like 'YOU'...as in 'Zeus! COME!'...this leads to many sheepish explanations to neighbors walking by thinking perhaps you have Turrets (sp) syndrome...'hi...uh, sorry...I wasn't calling to you...I was..uh...calling our dog...Have a great day---your lawn is beautiful! Do you fertilize?"
Some dogs don't ever get an 'official' name.
My dad's fraternity in college had a house dog named 'Dammit'...Maybe his name was 'Earl'...and they just shortened it because 'Dammit' always preceded the 'Earl' part?
('Dammit Earl! Give me back that can!')
Anyway, the dog was actually in the Fraternity picture line up---had his own studio portrait next to all the Delts---so, he was very well thought of despite his unfortunate nickname.
People who name cats have to be careful as well...when 'Captain Sweet Cheeks' escapes the confines of the home, no one wants to be outside making kissy noises and saying--out loud---'Captain Sweeeeeetcheeeeks...come on boy!' followed by more kissy noises...the neighbors will be putting you on the 'freak list' because Jesus and 'Captain Sweet Cheeks' are living in your home!
This can also lead to much consternation, and confusion, in a marriage, as some men inevitably think THEY are 'Captain Sweet Cheeks'...
I believe there should be a rule for naming pets...they should have FULL names.
We have 'Roxy Von Bacheler' aka: 'Roxy the Foxy Beagle mix'...our cat 'Sylvia Wallace Bacheler'. (Wallace is my maiden name... but in catspeak it really means Sylvia...'slayer of all mice/ninja kitty/tail chasing bird whisperer'...Bacheler.) I have also had a lab named 'Sir Brewster of the Highlands'...beloved cats 'Jesse of the James'....aka: 'Juice Toes' and 'Prince Charles of Richelieu'. Then there was 'Signore Luca di Pavoratti' aka: 'Cow Kitty'. We have also had a hamster: 'Mr. Snuggles'...(poor Mr. Suggles...my mother in law held him so tight his eyes were popped out...he was never right after that.)
...it's all about respect really. Honor your pets and they will honor you---except the cats...they live by their own rules.
I love names that have a meaning...take into account anything French: Jolie, Joie,Vivian...Indian names a la 'Dances with Wolves'...Tutanka...etc. Maybe you have run across such names...
Children, like pets, cannot escape the name game either.
They are at the mercy of their parents/captors.
I have actually heard of a girl whose name is Candi (with an 'i'---probably w/ a smiley face or heart on top of the 'i') CANE! Candi Cane? Seriously? Why would a parent do this to a child? It inevitably set her up for crude prepubescent joking...
Same thing with people who are named 'Bob Roberts'. What? Couldn't think of anything else, mom and dad? Robert Roberts? Well, I guess there is a little less guessing in the 'first name last, last name first' scenerio. (and I mean no disrespect to any 'Bob Roberts', 'Tom Thomas', 'Pete Peters' people out there, or their parents!)
Of course this leads to my thoughts on people whose last names really ARE a first name: Thomas, Jackson, James...so, do they name them a LAST name for the FIRST name? (Ex: Smith Thomas, Jones Jackson, Clayton James...) This is confusing for everyone---especially the roll-takers. I'm just sayin'....
For offspring, in particular, the last name is a big deciding factor...no you don't want to name your son 'Richard Johnson'...or for a girl who comes from the well connected 'Butte' clan...'Fanny Butte'...no good. They will suffer the same fate as Candi Cane.
I am also amused by parents who name their kids after fruits, inanimate objects, seasons,or months of the year.'Apple'...'Stone'---which is actually pretty cool...'Summer' or 'May'---whose birthday is in December...(again, no disrespect to anyone with those names!)
Flower names have always been around---'Violet', 'Rose','Daisy'...however, I do think 'Viola' and 'Petunia' may be pushing it...although they should all remain in the running for pet names...
Human names and pet names do cross over well...as well as 'verb names'...'Chase', 'Skip', 'Jett'
(---which if I had had a boy this last time, was the name I had picked out...mainly because he would have been an athlete, for sure, and it sounds great on a loudspeaker: "Touchdown! Jett Bacheler!'...which, then, would have landed him a job in sportscasting..."This is Jett Bacheler reporting from the Yankees training camp. Back to you in the studio.")
AND, by the way, we can all thank the breeders who came up with the name 'Shiitzu'...gave us all an excuse to say a naughty word when we were little! C'mon, you know you did it too!You got the same thrill---just as my son did when he spelled 'association' in spelling review---
'A-S-S...(snicker snicker)..o...c-i-a-t-i-o-n.' hahaha!
OK. So back to 'Lucky'....
It's a great name! Perfect for this dog! Adopted. Loved. Healthy.= Lucky!
Here is what I was thinking about...
This is the set up:
My friend and his wife are at the grocery store, in the check out line...chatting while the cashier rings them up...(friend and wife are actually talking about picking the dog up at the vet.)
'Sweetie, are you going to go pick up the kids?'
'Yeah sure...after I go get Lucky...' (cashier looks up....thinking, 'that rat talkin' about gettin some strange with his wife standin' right here...')
'How long will that take...???'...(cashier looks down thinks,'Lord Jesus...she doesnt MIND?..buncha heathens.')
'I think about an hour---she said he'd be ready for me when I get there...shouldn't take too long.'
(cashier gives them both condescending, dirty look...Stares holes in their foreheads with her eyes.)
hahhah!
See! You have to be careful when naming pets and kids!...or have quick explainations handy!!!
...and yes, my married name used to be 'Mrs. Bacheler'...oh the irony...!!!

When life was 'easy'...

The Summer of 1978...I was 13.
Our house was in the North End of Virginia Beach...the 'real' beach...one block from the ocean.
The only other homes around us were huge old beach cottages---family owned for generations, little bungalow houses with screened in porches...nothing more than 2 stories high...
every driveway was either compacted sand and oyster shells or gravel.
We never wore shoes...the soles of our feet were like leather.
We had one window unit for air conditioning in the dining room/kitchen---no one had central air then...and your floor fan was your friend.
I used to sleep with my window open...late at night I could hear the ocean, after the traffic died down on Atlantic Avenue.
The birds and I usually woke up around 9am...watched a bit of happy Days and Leave It To Beaver re-runs...eating my bowl of Special K (with whole milk), drinking my OJ, and having a cake donut.
The back door was open, and the cat hung out on the screened porch.
Our loud next door neighbors began a chorus of yelling back and forth---you always knew what they were doing...like it or not.
Mom was a teacher and had the summers off...she always slept in.
My job was to get my summer math and reading comprehension workbook pages done, and checked, and then I could go to the beach.(I went to a private school...the homework was never 'done'.)
I called the surf report every morning. Then I'd call my friends...
Getting ready to go to the beach was as easy as putting on my bikini---we all wore them---a huge tshirt as a cover up, flip flops (the kind you got at the drugstore), grabbing my towel off the line outside, fetching my Morey Boogie Board 360 B.E.(leaning against the outdoor shower)...and I was off.
I'd get to the beach,throw down my board, towel, and put on sunscreen---there were only 2 kinds...Sundowner is the one I remember bc it was the first waterproof one. If you put it on after you got wet, it made these white 'snot balls' all over you....you got Desitin on your nose and cheeks if they started to burn.
None of us were allowed to go in to the ocean until a 'grown up' showed up---and I can tell you, on the days that the waves were killer, it was just the glimpse of the top of my mom's head coming over the dune that sent me sprinting in to the water.
My girlfriends usually showed up shortly after...my best friend rode a bright yellow mo-ped all the way from Bay Colony...we were all jealous that she had a 'ped'. My other galpals would show up eventually...we were a hot little crew!
We did not care about boys---at least I did not...especially if Pete Smith's surf shop had reported the waves as 'head high, glassy and definitely ride-able'...we all rode together...chicks and dudes.
The street next to ours always had a better break, so we would all inadvertently 'drift' over there....
Our moms would get up out of their low slung beach chairs and wave us back over like the guys at the airport tarmac.
Begrudgingly, we would ride a wave in and walk back down the beach.
If we were really lucky, at low tide, there'd be a sand bar= better waves...and the chance to paddle out farther than our mom's voices could yell for us to come in.
If there were jellies in the water, we'd put Vaseline on our legs and arms...which would make your board slippery...so, you'd have to dig down and get some sand to put on your board as to not slide off when you dropped in on a wave.
The coolest thing that ever happened to me:
One day my friend Margaret and I both took the same wave...as we both stood up on our boards, a dolphin(porpoise) surfaced between us!
This big black shiny sea creature was riding with us...I will never forget the look on M's face! I was (am) a 'goofy foot'=right foot forward, and she surfed 'normal', so we were facing each other on the wave---we both screamed in awe!
'WHOOOA! DUDE! DID YOU SEE THAT???!!!!'
It was very cool.
After about 4 hours of endless rides, we would all go up to my house for PBJ's, onion dip and Pringles, Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls, Tea...and some Hot Tamales candy to carry on the walk back over the dune. Calories meant nothing---we ate whatever we felt like---nothing was safe!
(When you stay in the water 8+ hours a day, you burn it all off.)
Back then, we had to stay out of the water for 1/2 hour after we ate lunch---bc we 'would cramp up in the water and drown'...I think it was so the mom's could relax a little longer.
During that 'rest time' we'd put on some Hawaiian Tropic Deep Tanning oil---brown bottle...spf 0...I can still smell the coconuts!
When we were given the 'all clear'---after constant nagging---we'd be back in the water...
By the afternoon, most days, we'd all be wearing our Tshirts in the water bc of the rib/stomach rash our boards had given us---putting sand on the board, though practical, eventually rips you up! (Wish we'd had 'rash guards' then!)
By around 4pm, we'd all be wearing down.
When we breathed in really deep, our chests hurt from slamming over waves. Our lips were all shriveled from the salt water...not to mention the dried salt in our hair and eyebrows...stings. The inside of our mouths tasted like sushi---yuck!
We were 'done'.
The hardest part of the day was trudging back over the dune...boards and towels in tow. The one block walk home was an eternity. The sun would be starting to go down, so it beamed you one last time in the face.
Finally arriving home, I'd hose down my board, lean it against the wall, and take my own outdoor shower(in my swimsuit bc we did not have an enclosure)...with cold water. When friends were there, mom made me take my shower second so my guest would get the warmer water...
(We did not get hot water outside until I was like 16.)
Grabbing a towel off the line and wrapping myself up, I'd then do an act, only to be rivaled by Houdini himself. The bikini was off and slung on the line so the lawn mower guys would not run over it...
Dressed in my Pete Smith's Surf shop shirt, and my OP shorts...my day was done....
I miss those days.
Going to the beach now---with 3 kids and all their stuff---equates itself to strategic war planning.
(And now I wear a 'tankini', ginormous hat, and spf 1000.)
However, you will catch me out in the water...teaching my kids to ride...
...and waving them back in!