Today I dedicated an entire page on this blog to my dog. Yes, I’m one of THOSE people who is entirely too pleased with my tail-wagging sidekick. I also have an entire Facebook album dedicated to said beast, but at least have the consideration to make it only available to myself. Not everyone cares about the absurd level of my animal’s cuteness…knowing that makes me a better person than many frequenters of the book of faces.
Creating this page made me think back to an interesting conversation I had in my building a couple of weeks ago. It was early on a Sunday morning and I found myself in a familiarly awkward Sabbath Day situation. While I was heading out for my morning dog walk wearing gym shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops, the other riders were headed to whatever local cathedral dressed in their Sunday finest. This situation is always the cause of some discomfort simply because I’m usually expecting them to give me a disapproving face of some kind and 86% of the time that is what happens.
As I was doing my best to avoid eye contact and thinking about how amazing I’d be at starting a religion, I noticed that Schubert was getting some always appreciated attention from the gentleman in this group. Smiling at the man apparently sent an open invitation for him to ask a series of questions about my monster…
Church Man: “What kind of dog is this!?”
Me: “Oh, I adopted him from a shelter, so am not really sure.”
Church Man: “He looks like a Chihuahua on stilts!”
Me: [awkward, half-smile] “Yeah, I tell people he’s a ‘Chi-Whippet’ because he’s got the build of a mini greyhound.”
Church Man: “He sure does! What’s his name?”
Church Man: [big chuckle] “Wow, girl…you must REALLY love shoes!”
Me: [involuntary face of disgust] “Yeahhhh….have a nice day.”
Now, should I have corrected the man’s assumption that I named my pet after an infatuation with footwear? Perhaps. But because it was early and I don’t like to come across as pretentious to my neighbors, I decided to leave his incorrect logic alone. Immediately I slightly regretted not telling him that my 2 great loves are shoes and one-half of Sesame Street‘s gay couple so, after much thought, I found “Shoe-Bert” was best name combo that would properly honor both. Such an explanation would have made me smile for minutes, but would also place me in the undeniable asshole category (I try to walk the line of questionable asshole and sarcastically witty).
This lead me to over analyze the idea of what it would be like to assume everything/everyone’s personal label’s origin was the result of an interest held by their parent (or owner). In some cases this assumption would be 100% correct, especially when looking at pet names. But what if it was assumed that my name, Elizabeth, was given because my mother thoroughly enjoyed her subscription to Elle magazine? Here’s a short list of some possible explanations parents might have if they used such logic:
- Tommy- fan of a trendy, poorly made, do-good shoe brand
- Jennifer- gin and tonic is their drink of choice
- Andrew- conjunctions make their world go round
- Diane- either a gambling or suicide hotline was hopefully suggested to them
- Johnson- toilets were not seen as an object, but rather as their passion
Go ahead, try a few on your own! I promise this activity can be a fantastic Wednesday afternoon Time Vampire.
Maybe the world would be a more simple place if everyone thought like this? It would definitely make everything and everyone an easier target to judge. And that would make life easier for both cynics and church-goers. Think about it.
Post Summary: Think before you speak and if you lack basic logic, just pet the dog and keep thoughts to yourself.