What's In a Name?

I've often said that one should be very careful when it comes to the naming of things. They tend to live up to the name. Cats, dogs, fish, cars, children - they have the innate ability to know what their names mean, and they strive to fulfill them.

I once had a cat named Marco Polo. One day he wandered away and went exploring, never to return. In my defense, I named him after he displayed his tendency to roam.

The human residents of Casa de Crazy had occasion to be at my friend K's house on Friday. She needed a bit of help with some leaf control (I actually asked her if her neighbors were dumping their leaves in her yard when she wasn't looking - there were enough leaves to cover a Volkswagen Bus!)(Not kidding), and Someone was willing to do the work. The Evil Genius and I were along for the ride and to pay a visit - K and I haven't had much chance to sit and gossip, lately.

K has a dog and two cats. One of the cats is rather...shy. The other, the newer of the two, is just about the sweetest kitty ever, anxious for a lap and some lovin'. The dog is...erm...sorry, K...a spaz of the highest order. He's a sweet, loving spaz, but a spaz. When guests come over, he goes into paroxysms of delight, wagging his entire self until the house shakes, then launching into an all-out display of ohmuhgoodnessyou'reclearlyheretoseemeandplayplayplayplay, running around the perimeter of the living room until he's escorted rather firmly outside by one of his resident humans.

His name is Trip.

In K's defense, the dog was named for one of his less endearing traits.

So the Evil Genius was at the top of a small flight of stairs, petting the new kitty when Trip decided it was his turn for some attention. He built up a head of steam and caromed into the back of the kid, head-butting the boy's back. Little Dude executed a perfect double somersault down the steps, landing in a heap at the bottom.

He looked rather confused for a split second, then he began to cry.

I can't blame him.

Luckily, he wasn't too damaged by the fall. He was delighted by the prospect of being allowed to tell people that Trip knocked him "ass over teakettle" - I told him he could even say "ass" instead of "butt" because he'd earned it.

I thought maybe he'd have a nice shiner out of the deal, too, but it looks like all we've got is a rather nasty looking abrasion:

He was happy to let me take a photo and post it on the Internet...proof that little boys are weird (lately, he has shied away from cameras and cried out "Don't post that on the Internet!!" Silly boy...as if...).

One of these days I will test my naming theory and name a pet Lottery Win. I'll let you know how that works out...