Naming a puppy isn’t as easy as I thought. Before I had one, I had dog names in mind, but they were for certain breeds.

If I had a Boxer,
I’d name him Fido:

If I had a French Poodle,
I’d name her Fi-Fi:

If I had a Scottish Terrier,
I’d name him MacTavish:

So what’s so hard about naming the puppy I got? People name things all the time. I’d never paid so close attention to the names you see and hear every day, as when my puppy was nameless. I noted names everywhere:

Street names like Laurel and Songbird and Newberry.
Store names like Staples and Kohls and Levitz.
Websites like Amazon and Xanga and GrayCharles.
City names like Chehalis and Vashon and Illahee.
Musicians’ names like Taylor and Mayer and Otis.

But were any of them good enough to use? My puppy had to have not just any name, but the perfect name.

The analytical part of me kicked in and I started to research dog names. A Google search provided seemingly endless sites with suggestions for names. You can find lists of names based on breed, male or female, popularity, language, or things like film or comic book characters. Lists of the most popular dog names are:

Did you notice how many names on these lists are people names? It hasn’t always been this way. It turns out that pet names are trendy, too.

“More and more, pets are true family members,” said (Kal Kan) company spokeswoman Alice Nathanson.*

That people names are used for dogs is just a reflection of the fact that now they are viewed as more than just animals to live outdoors and guard the house or herd the livestock or retrieve game.

Some sites provided advice on choosing a name, rather than just lists of names: Choose a name of one or two syllables for easier training. Don’t pick a name that sounds like a command, like “Sketch” if you train your dog to fetch. Find a name that conveys the image you want for your dog, since the name itself can influence how people respond. After all, would you rather meet a rotweiler for the first time named “Killer” or “Snuggles”?

I started a short list of possible names. Short being relative to the thousands of possibilities. I could have taken the easy way out and just named him Spot, I guess, as he bore a resemblance to the story-book character:

Or given up altogether and hired Jerry.

In the end, choosing a name came down to a matter of necessity, not finally finding the perfect one. How long could a puppy go without a name? We found ourselves calling him nicknames, none of which I wanted to stick. Then others started giving suggestions of what to call him, none of which I wanted to stick, either. So he got a name that’s not too trendy, and not too person-alized. He got a name that represents him well. My dog got a name that seems appropriate for ‘Man’s Best Friend’.

-Amigo’s friend

Here’s the scenario:
It’s one day before a long road trip.
You want a CD to listen to along the way.
You have $20.00 and an iTunes account.
You can ask one other person for suggestions.
What would you come up with?

Here’s my mix:

1. Six Days on the Road – Taj Mahal
2. Every Mile a Memory – Dierks Bentley
3. On the Road Again – Willie Nelson
4. Home – Marc Broussard
5. Call Me the Breeze – Lynard Skynard
6. Southbound – The Allman Brothers
7. Sweet Home Chicago – Eric Clapton
8. Summertime – Bon Jovi
9. Long Train Running – Doobie Brothers
10. Somewhere Between Texas and Mexico – Pat Green
11. Free and Easy – Dierks Bentley
12. Oye Como Va – Santana
13. Hotel California – Gipsy Kings
14. Blaze of Light – Loren Gold
15. El Camino – Gipsy Kings
16. The Letter – Box Tops
17. Feels Just Like It Should – Pat Green
18. Ramblin’ Man – The Allman Brothers

The other two that I downloaded were “Me and Bobby McGee” by Janis Joplin, and “Vikingman” by Rodrigo y Gabriela, but then I couldn’t find a good spot to plug them in. I actually prefer Taylor Hicks’ renditions of “Call Me the Breeze” and “Southbound” to the originals, but because of the interaction with the audience on his live performance recordings, they didn’t seem to flow with the other songs.

Thanks to my son for the collaboration.

Oh, and if you’re wondering, Amigo is having a blast at doggie summer camp:

-Amigo’s friend

]]> http://amigomio.wordpress.com/2007/08/02/what-road-trip-is-complete-without-music/feed/ 1 Amigo's friend On the road again Amigo’s summer fun http://amigomio.wordpress.com/2007/07/19/how-is-it/ http://amigomio.wordpress.com/2007/07/19/how-is-it/#comments Fri, 20 Jul 2007 00:13:47 +0000 Amigo's friend http://amigomio.wordpress.com/2007/07/19/how-is-it/ ]]>

How is it that Amigo thinks this is great fun:

Sitting in the creek

And this:

Headed for the deep

And this:

Swimming

Oh, yeah! He’s happy:

Splashing

Happy, happy, wet, and happy:

A creek is for wading. Obviously.

Did I mention wet?

Next: shaking off, usually as close to me as possible

But just try washing off some of the algae, sand, and salt:

NO GO!

How is it then, that there is no way Amigo’s going anywhere near this water?

-Amigo’s friend

Song by Bob Dylan – Copyright © 1970

-Amigo’s friend

“Amigo can get his travel certificate from the vet today. You can pick him up this afternoon.”

My heart surges with joy to hear those words from the breeder. It was just before our trip to Alaska, and oblivious to any logistical considerations, I want to take that 9-week-old puppy with me. I call the airline to make the arrangements.

The day drags by until the time when DH and I can drive out to the kennel. We meet Amigo’s parents,

get advice about what puppy food is best and such things, and after reimbursing them for the vet visit, he’s ours to take home. Amigo settles on the bench seat between us in the truck, as though he’s done it forever. We can only hope that he will be that adaptive to plane and boat travel.

We stop at the pet store to pick up the essentials. Now, I’m familiar with big box stores. A good number of the items in my cupboards are Kirkland brand. And after two years of working on home remodeling projects, I can draw you a map of the interior of Home Depot. But this was my initiation into the captivating world of PetSmart. It’s your one stop shopping experience for all things doggie, including the dog itself if you go on the weekends when the Humane Society has them there for adoption. The main difference between it and other mega-stores, is that PetSmart seems to have a representative on every other aisle to assist you in your buying decisions. I now realize there may be no one as gullible as a new puppy-parent. It doesn’t take much to convince me that I need to buy lots of things in order to be a good one. Soon my cart is full to overflowing with travel crate, bedding, puppy food, toys, dishes, collar, leash, and treats. I make my way past the books and magazines towards the check-out counter. A title something like “How to Train Your Puppy in Just 15 Minutes” catches my eye. Aha, that’s the one for me, and it goes in the cart, too. By the time I check out, I’m pleased with myself. The total on the receipt measures what a responsible dog owner I am. I’m so busy feeling smug that it doesn’t occur to me how I will get it all to Alaska.

I’ll skip relating all the events of the next thirty hours before we departed for the airport. Suffice it to say the time flew by, what with taking care of all the last minute chores, packing suitcases, removing things from suitcases to make room for other things, cleaning up piddles, and realizing you can’t train a puppy in 15 minutes. The truth began to dawn on me that maybe Amigo can be a good dog without all the extra toys and treats I just bought for him. He seems happy just to shadow us, carrying around a blue stuffed dog that’s almost as big as he is, sniffing every item as it’s packed, and barking indignantly at both broom and vacuum.

We’re bushed by the time we depart the house at 3 in the morning. Amigo is content in his crate on the way to airport, through the check-in and security. At last, the flight takes off! It makes a short stopover in Juneau, where the airport is just a few miles from Mendenhall glacier. It is a sapphire in the sun out the airplane window.

I recline in the seat for the final leg of the trip to Sitka, watching the mountains of Admiralty Island scroll by.

Sitka is a lively place in the summer. The fishing season is in full swing, and Sitka is a major delivery port. Smaller sport boats, chartered to take visiting fishermen out to the salmon-rich waters, weave among the larger commercial vessels. Huge cruise ships lay at anchor, the tourists lightered to shore to see the museums and historical sights of what was once the capitol of Russian America. I behave like the rest of the visitors and head for quaint downtown to drop some money at the shops. My favorite is Abby’s Reflection, where you can find a mix of clothing, jewelry, fabric, and quilts, all with a local flavor.

We visit friends and family, buy provisions, load the boat, and head for our island home.

When we get there, does Amigo know he’s home? Do traces of our scent remain in the house even though we haven’t been there for so long? Or is it just that since we make ourselves at home, he does, too? With a puppy at our heels, we inspect each room, open cupboards and drawers, and delight in rediscovering things we’d left behind or forgotten about. Amigo doesn’t find it to be nearly as stimulating as we do, and opts for a nap, worn out from the long boat ride.

Time has it’s own rhythm here. It’s about the sun and the tide, not about the clock or the calendar. The days are long and we stay up late. We sleep in. We linger over coffee. We talk a lot and don’t say much. We spend more time visiting friends and neighbors than we did when we lived here. Rain postpones intended chores outside, giving an excuse for reading instead, listening to the quiet. I paint the kitchen vibrant yellow, chasing away the gray. Amigo is in his element. Life was made for him, or so his happy manner conveys. The tide flats are his playground. He discovers the water:

Lounges in the kelp:

Finds sticks and shells:

And plays hide-and-seek in the tall beach grass:

The time goes by all too quickly. There are obligations elsewhere. We have plane reservations that we can’t change. So, we’re packing once again. The stuffed blue dog doesn’t make the cut. Amigo chewed him endlessly and then figured out how to pull the stuffing out. The weather is good for travel. It’s time. I’m wistful as the boat speeds away.

Ah, but it was good to go.

-Amigo’s friend

The English Springer Spaniel is known as an “active” breed. That’s code-talk for a dog who’s always ready for any adventure. For Amigo, life is a met with an attitude that each day holds new and exciting exploits. “Load up” and “Let’s go” are some of his favorite words. When we considered a road trip to the vast open prairie, we knew he would be up for it. And last week we did just that.

But first things first. It’s time for Amigo to get a summer haircut. The groomer is at the same place as his puppy training classes. He fondly remembers Kelly, the instructor, and all the treats she keeps in her pockets. He bounds excitedly out of the car when we get to the parking lot.

Hey, wait a minute. We’re not going in the main entrance, but the side door that leads to the area with the funny smell. He knows that smell: dog shampoo! Amigo hesitates, tucks his tail, falters in his steps. The groomers fuss over him as he comes in the door, but Amigo is not reassured. For a dog who likes to be on the go all the time, he suddenly becomes stiff-legged and immobile as I propel him through the gate to the grooming station. The leash changes hands and I leave him to his fate. Three hours later I return to the happiest, tail-waggingest puppy dog on the planet. He’s hardly recognizable from the disheveled, dirty beastie that I dropped off:

We spend the next couple of days of sorting and paring and packing the essentials. Amigo’s box holds food, treats, toys, dishes, water, towels, and more. There’s a road map in the door pocket, and you-know-who in the driver’s seat. A little reordering of the seating arrangement, and then we’re off.

Rather than take the interstates, we drive on some of the less travelled roads, until a thousand miles later we arrive at camp:

Here is country made for an active dog. Wide open spaces with all sorts of smells to catch his interest. As long as he avoids ticks and cactus and foxtails and snakes and fire ants and coyotes, Amigo is free to have fun. His genetic makeup takes over, and he’s off, nose to the ground, quartering back and forth, following the trails of what passed by earlier. He smells the cowpies that litter the grazing area. He shies from the unfamiliar humans who want to say hello. But once they are no longer paying attention to him, he sidles up to sniff their jeans and boots. Amigo uses his nose more than any other sense to know the world. And what a world it is:

We didn’t make the trip solely for Amigo’s sake. Cyber-friends planned for over a year to meet, camp, and share mutual interests. Yes, a bunch of folks from various locations and backgrounds, who for the most part only knew each other by exchanging remarks on different internet boards and blogs, decided it was worth their time to gather face-to-face. It is an amazing concept that still has me scratching my head in wonder. I feel like I know and have more in common with people I met on the internet than my neighbor across the street. There’s hand shakes and introductions. The exchange of user names and real ones. In no time at all, we’re sharing road stories and backgrounds. We spend three days with great new friends.

It’s hot. Too hot for me. We get a hotel room with air-conditioning. At the end of a day in the 90s in the thin air of the high prairie, even Amigo seems grateful to stretch out in the cool room. He’s one tired but happy dog as we load up for the last time:

The drive back takes an alternate route from the way we came. We spend one day in Yellowstone National Park, which is not nearly enough time to see everything it has to offer. Amigo barks half-heartedly at the buffalo there, but for the most part, he’s had enough adventure. The active dog isn’t so active any more. All tuckered out, he spends most of the time on the way home in his favorite spot, wedged between the other members of his pack:

It’s just before dusk when we pull into the driveway.Three happy creatures: glad to go, and glad to be home.

-Amigo’s friend

Puppy or no puppy, Alaska was calling me.

I was born there. Went to school, met my husband, got married, raised my children, earned a living. All in Alaska. Now I have been out of the state for 2½ years. But I have not moved away. You don’t leave Alaska. Or better said: Alaska does not leave you.

Robert Service was a poet in the Yukon Territory at the time of the Alaska-Yukon gold rush. His poem, “The Spell of the Yukon”, expresses the feeling well:

There’s a land where the mountains are nameless,
And the rivers all run God knows where;
There are lives that are erring and aimless,
And deaths that just hang by a hair;
There are hardships that nobody reckons;
There are valleys, unpeopled and still;
There’s a land — oh, it beckons and beckons,
And I want to go back — and I will.

-Amigo’s friend