When scanning through a compilation of the most common dog names, it serves as a cautionary tale not to use any of them. They tend to be either overly used or too fashionable. And years down the line, hollering “Come, Fauci!” to an elderly Pekinese doesn’t seem like an ideal choice.
On the flip side, we’re naturally inquisitive creatures – hence why I decided to open an email from Rover.com, a dog-walking/sitting service, that incidentally also handles cat care. They’d probably even arrange for aromatherapy for your Komodo Dragon while you’re away on vacation, if you so desire.
Per the email, the top five male dog names in Minneapolis are: Charlie, Max, Murphy, Teddy, and Louie. For female dogs, it’s Luna, Bella, Lucy, Rosie, and Penny. All of them are perfectly fine dog names. What I found to be intriguing was the headline of the email, which revealed that a trending Minneapolis dog name was … Lambeau.
Did you know that Lambeau is actually the famous French philosopher for whom the Green Bay Packers’ field is named after? A member of the proto-existentialists, Lambeau allegedly theorized that the void left by the decline of religion could be temporarily filled by sports and beer, unless there were playoffs, which provided a form of afterlife.
It’s not hard to envision people calling out “Lambeau!” to their dogs at the park, while Vikings fans glaring, then summoning their dogs: “Here, USBank!” – who were previously known as Thielen, but had to be renamed after he switched teams.
Although it would be ridiculous to name a dog after a stadium that sold naming rights, it does make you wonder why companies don’t offer to sponsor dogs just to hear their names called out in public. Maybe it’s because the only time you call your dog’s name in public is when it’s misbehaving. “Gillette! No! Gillette, leave that lady’s leg alone!” Or, “Godiva, drop that rotten squirrel!” It probably wouldn’t be a good idea.
The name you give your dog depends on when you obtain it. The initial dog, before you have kids, gets a one-of-a-kind name that conveys all the pre-paternal emotions you invest in the creature. It’s a moniker you might even bestow upon an actual child. The second dog’s name, however, is given by the children, who usually come up with something like Snooperdood or Wangy, and you simply can’t refuse. As for the third dog, the empty-nester dog, it might be something smaller and yappier, because as you get older and weaker, it’s harder to control a Great Dane during a walk. So the name often ends in a vowel: Trixie, Poppy, Lexie.
But not for our household – not just yet. Our No. 3 dog is a white lab, a rescue dog that I deduce spent his puppyhood in the woods of Alabama being tormented by mailmen. It would explain a lot.
My wife is talented at coming up with dog names, and selected “Birch” for him because of his color. What she didn’t realize was that it would autocorrect to a gender he wasn’t, so half of my texts regarding the dog sound like crude rap lyrics.
When I first met him at the shelter, he was sick and frightened, yet I adored him from the moment I laid eyes on him – thin and shivering. There was a name on the cage that took me by surprise: It was the name of the dog we had just lost, a hound that eagerly tracked the scent of deer and was never seen alive again. This little white pup seemed like a ghost of the dog for whom we had searched for weeks.
The little white dog most likely never learned his shelter name. But he caught on to Birch pretty quickly, as it represented food, love, and cuddles and scratches.
The surveys don’t tell you about the dog’s second name – the one that is a symbol of affection. My wife calls him “Buddy” with fondness; I just employ “dog” during those moments when you simply want to bury your face in their fur and absorb that wonderful canine scent. “Hello, dog. Hello, my dog.”
The names we give dogs are merely the wrapping paper and ribbons. It’s the creature itself – beautifully mortal and marvelously eternal – that is the real gift inside the box.
P.S. Lambeau is not, in fact, a trending Minneapolis dog name. A subsequent email clarified that I received that information in error, perhaps intended for a Wisconsin paper. The follow-up email stated that another of the trending names – up 300% – was, believe it or not, “Beer.” So I’m now firmly convinced that this update was meant for Wisconsin.
Here in Minnesota, it would be Artisanal IPA. So if you hear someone calling “Here, Arty. Arty, come,” now you know the rationale behind the nickname.
