If you think naming a child is difficult, what about naming a pet?

With a child you have a nine-month period of grace to settle on a name and family traditions to rely on. When in doubt, you can always call him “Jr.” if male or someone in “Little Women” if she’s a girl.

Parents wouldn’t go for a first impression like “Messy Pants,” “Screamer,” “Sleepy” or “Dribble.”

But a lot of people go for first impressions in naming pets. And many have to live with their mistakes.

How many dogs named “Tiny” have grown up to be 200-pound great Danes, and think of the countless “Babies” that graduate into pit bulls.

A lot of people don’t think naming a pet is serious business, but it is.

How many “Poopsies” have you seen neurotically cowering in the vet’s office whenever their name is called? And they’re not necessarily poodles. They can be boxers or German shepherds.

It’s like people growing to look like their pets. (Think of Winston Churchill and his bulldog.)

You name something and it becomes that name.

I know an Afghan hound named “Bruce” who is totally miserable. I think if he had been called “Rambo” he’d be a lot happier.

Human can change their names; cats and dogs can’t. They’re stuck with what we call them.

People tend to get cute with pets’ names. They are often the same people who give names to their houses, their vehicles, parts of their anatomies and bodily functions.

Pet owners can also get esoteric, to show off, like naming their cats “Ptolemy” or “Nebuchadnezzar.” Cats, smarter than dogs and their owners, can ignore their names of they don’t like them. Dogs will come to any name you like.

When my sister purchased a bearded collie — a rare, expensive breed from England — she had to sign pacts and covenants to get the puppy, and it came with a pedigree a mile long.

Canine pedigrees are arcane and restrictive, like country club memberships and computer passwords.

My sister’s puppy was officially named “Gray Misty of Mistmoor,” which smacks of bodice-busting Barbara Cartland novels or “Outlander” on TV.

Her family, of course, had the option to select a non-United Kingdom Kennel Club nickname.

Not “Misty,” of course, because of the X-rated movie of the same name, and not “Beethoven” for the same reason.

After much family agonizing and infighting, what name did the dog finally get? Paddy, after the British bear in the storybooks and movie.

I have no idea why. The dog, now full grown, is more like Godzilla.

See what I mean about pet names? What’s wrong with just plain “Cat” or “Dog”?

Everything it seems.

Because when you name a pet, you put your status on the line.

Write Fred Pfisterer, a retired editor for The News Leader, at

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