Mastering the art of kennel-clature
One passionate dog-lover in the house can change everything, and everybody, for the better, of course.
In our family, it’s our daughter. The tacit gospel for peace at home is: “Love me (optional), love my dog more (mandatory).” For the past two decades or so, we have had diverse canine inmates as a part of the clan. On our visits to homes of friends and family in her childhood, I must confess that the memory and name of the pet were her only takeaways. Boarding school, college and, now, work has kept her away from home for long spells. But invariably the first call in the morning is a detailed enquiry into the well-being and whereabouts of the two adorable beagles we have at present.
The demand for more, yeh dil mange more, eternally looms in her familial conversations. Birthdays have often been used as emotional bait with considerable success. Invariably, it is the run-up to the arrival of the new pup that has been the most exciting. The ritual begins with zealous brainstorming over the nomenclature. There are discussions and disagreements before the creature finally gets the word it must hang on to for the rest of its life.
A German Shepherd pair was once named Timber and Legacy, and their successors, Timber II and Grace. To be fair, the leonine breed majestically lived up to their carefully chosen titles. And so, did the Himalayan sheep dog called Thunder. Contrarily, the Dachshund, fondly called Naughty, turned out quite morose and sulky in his outlook. The pressure is on us, for Ace is the name already chosen for the yet to arrive GSD!
The naming of the canines is done with due diligence to the pronunciation abilities and liking of elders, peers and caregivers at home. Out of sheer love for animals, she offers the nomenclature services to the extended family as well. I am reminded of times when pets, like children, shared names from a list that was not too extensive or innovative. In fact, for various reasons, names were often casually repeated. But gone are days of Jackie and Tommy, Kaalu and Tiger; one of the famous journalists named his dog Editor, while a friend took in a stray and ennobled his existence by calling him Sadhu.
Among the smaller furry friends, Tiny, an Indian variant of the Chihuahua, and Auto, a Pomeranian Spitz, disarmed us no end with their unique antics.
Unintimidated by their bigger companions, they reinvented the old saying to their own effect, “small size matters”. Tiny was fastidious about his food and comfort. Auto couldn’t contain his energy and circled around restlessly. He actually caused a furore one day as he was found missing. The caretaker, Bhutto Ram, who was new to the job, came back without his charge from the evening walk. The whole family reached out calling, “Auto, Auto, Auto.” And Auto emerged instantly, leaping out of the bushes, wagging his tiny tail. Bhutto Ram was somewhat startled but hugely relieved. He exclaimed in chaste Punjabi, “No wonder! It’s Auto. I have been yelling Tempo, Tempo, Tempo…for the past half an hour.”
Yes, there is always something in a name.
GONE ARE DAYS OF JACKIE AND TOMMY, KAALU AND TIGER; A JOURNALIST NAMED HIS DOG EDITOR, WHILE A FRIEND ENNOBLED A STRAY’S EXISTENCE BY CALLING HIM SADHU