Seriously, Not My Name

I do not like change. It makes me uncomfortable…or, at least that’s what I think I am feeling…discomfort.

Change is hard. Change is good. Change is necessary. Change is blah, blah, blah! Once, when I got laid off (or possibly fired) from a company, I was told, “Change is good! It’s good for you! It’s good for the company!” Unfortunately, it wasn’t good for my bank account! Anyway, moving on…

I will get back to change shortly, so, if you are still reading, what is wrong with you!? Again, if you are still reading, I will bring change back in the story very soon. Please be patient…Please!

My three dogs have first and last names. It hasn’t always been that way, but it is now! I mean in the past, I was happy to have dogs with names like Cher or Adele…but no more! Not today Satan! Sorry…I got a bit carried away.

This all started out with a cat. I adopted an Abyssinian cat. (if you are not familiar, please google them, they are adorable). I was living in Nashville at the time and the cat I was adopting was living with a breeder in Knoxville. I know – I haven’t gotten an animal from a breeder since then – so, don’t be angry!

While driving home from Knoxville, I decided to run through some names to see if he would react.

I do not remember any of the names that didn’t work, just the one that did. When I said Fred Mertz, (shout out to I Love Lucy), he smeared my face with his. That was the sign I was looking for, even if it was kind of a messy sign.

I think naming my cat Fred Mertz opened up a whole new naming convention world for me. A world of animals with full legal names – even if they are names borrowed from real or fictional characters. I really am not planning on getting them social security numbers. Really, I am not! Could I? No…probably not.

Let’s fast forward to the present. I now am living a cat-less existence. Not necessarily by choice, but my fiancé says he is allergic to cats. I am still on the fence about getting another one. Don’t mention this to him.

As you heard earlier, we now have three dogs. All of them have a first and last name. None of these names are related to our names in any way.

Our oldest dog is Murphy Brown. When she was a pup, she was being fostered by a woman who told us her name was Murphy, but she wanted to change her name to Ginger. I wasn’t going to change her name if we got to adopt her. When she came to live with us, I decided to add the last name Brown. She became Murphy Brown. You probably need to be a certain age to understand the name. One hint, it was a TV show.

Our middle child (or dog) – Lizzie Borden – well, the name should ring a bell for most folks – at least, my age – please don’t do the math! We have put away any axes or sharp objects just in case she wants to live up to the name.

Last, but not least, or most days she’s not, is Belle Starr – named after a female outlaw in the old west and she really lives up to the name by being 11 pounds of fury coming at you at full speed.

Back to the topic of this post…I took Murphy Brown to our vet the other day and when we walked in, there was a new girl working the front desk. She asked, “Who do we have here?” I said “Murphy Brown”. She replied, “Mrs. Brown, you can bring Murphy in here.” I didn’t bother to correct her.

I mean, Murphy is not Cher, so, she needs her last name. Is that weird? Don’t answer that. I know it is . . . I just pretend I don’t.