A long time to wait for a Guinness!
Never ask someone’s child to come up with a name for your dog. It’s a lose lose situation for all. The kid will declare confidently that ‘Frank’ is a good idea and you’ll have to find ways to let them down gently, that you disagree. Poor puppy-no-name will stand by hopefully, yet again feeling like he will remain nameless for the foreseeable future.
I ask a lot of my dogs. They are first and foremost beloved family members and pets. They are walking companions, stress relievers and fun times candidates. But they also need to be work colleagues, attend puppy class and help the newbies learn good body language. They need to demo at agility days, obedience classes, clicker tricks. Most importantly, they are usually trained up as stooges for dog aggression cases which I work with regularly. That’s a lot to expect from them.
Last Thursday, I visited a litter of rescue border collies, in the hope that one might suit. My partner questioned whether or not I might be being impulsive! It’s been 8 years since my last puppy so I think this was his last stab at keeping the current canine status quo in the house. The litter of 5 had recently arrived from Ireland, where I’m from originally from, to the UK. They were typical farm dogs, scruffy, curious and about 8 weeks old. From the litter of tricolours, appeared a black and white boy who seemed to be a thinker. Less pushy and more independent than the others, he chose a person and followed them, rather than bundle together with his siblings to chew on each other or fight over a toy.
And so began our new relationship with puppy-no-name. He’s fallen right into our lives with incredible ease, so much so that I’m at pains to believe he can actually be this easy. He’s visited the vet twice, once to have his vaccinations, and once to be cuddled with every staff member who queued up to bury their faces in his fluff and breath in his puppy smell. He’s been carried around the pet shop, taking in the sights and sounds of a regular haunt of mine. Puppy- no-name has been to pub to sit and watch the world go by over a pint on a sunny Friday afternoon. He was carried to the beach where we sat and enjoyed the surf, the sand and the evening sun. Yesterday, Puppy-no-name visited a local theme park to travel on a tram, lick ice cream from kiddies fingers and sit on as many laps as would have him. He’s watched kids roll down grassy banks and play football. He has been to the farmyard to smell hens and geese and horses and cows and pigs. Last evening Puppy-no-name came with us to an outdoor theatre show which included fireworks, gunshots and lots of clapping people and bright lights. He has taken it all in his stride.
However, throughout the past few days, the question on everyone’s lips has been ‘What’s his name?’ Feeling like a bad mother, I’d mutter something about not having deciding yet while we bandied about the classics, some high brow, some Irish, some typical collie suggestions. You’d honestly think after waiting for such a long time for a puppy, I’d have had a list of names ready to put to good use. I did. The trouble was, none of them seemed to suit him. Until finally a stranger on the street came up with the best name we could ever have thought of for our new addition. It’s Irish, black and white and conjures up images of contentment, patience and calm satisfaction. It was an exceptionally long time to wait, but I’m very pleased to introduce our very own Guinness!
