We are now into our second week of wrangling about what to call our impending puppy and, frankly, it’s doing my head in. What started out as a fun exercise has turned into a massive eyeroll for me. Oscar was named for Oscar Peterson so we first decided to continue down the jazz legends route. Inger suggests Louis, Frank, Quincy, Ray, Nat, Dexter. Eliza favours Dexter. James does not. We think Dexter sounds a little cold for a puppy and besides there seems to be little actual evidence that C K Dexter Haven in High Society was actually Cole Porter. Cole was Oscar’s father’s name.

Nor can we use Charlie or George or any other name of current dog friends, and there will only ever be one Jasper in our hearts. The late-lamented one who was (almost) the best dog ever.

James, from Canada, suggests Fergus, which means “highest choice,” a little ironic as Puppy’s breeder will be choosing the best fit for our personalities, a can of worms in itself. I like Fergus. Inger and Sarah and Gemma like Fergus. John and Eliza and Adam and Alice decide that Fergus is not euphonic. We delve deeper and realise that they mean that it sounds like fungus. Fungi are useful and can be quite spectacular but, not if they form part of an infection on your foot. Right. Could we make the Scot into an Irish Fearghal (sp?) instead? I don’t know.

Sarah then sends me a list of medieval dog names:

This then generates this exchange with Eliza

I ask my Twitter and Whatsapp friends, who suggest inter alia Deefur, Douglas, and the hugely imaginative Dog.

I don’t like any of these, of course, and it’s me who has to shout them out across the park. Though not in the manner of the owner of poor, hapless Fenton, also a flatcoat. (No, he will NOT be called Fenton)

So then we think of classical Greek and Roman names that would not have sounded out of place in my offsprings’ school, to be fair. Cassius, Titan, Lucius, Sirius, Pliny, Casper, Felix, Albus, Odin, Neo, Nemo are all mooted. And rejected. I consider Jason but it’s probably no longer as heroic as it was in ancient Greek times. And didn’t Jason do the dirty on Medea when he was off looking for the Golden Fleece? John thinks Achilles would be great just for the  command “Achilles. Heel!” This is what I’m dealing with.

Remus, Romulus, Caesar Marcus Aurelius. No-one has, so far, suggested Caligula. Finn, but he’s neither shark nor Scandinavian, though his pedigree carries a lot of Swede.

We then realise that we’ve ignored names from non-Western cultures:

I bet my mum would have come up with all sorts of Indian names, unpronouceable by Western humans, let alone dogs. But Nandi reminds me of Lisa Nandy, the Labour politician, so that’s out.

For good measure, and because everyone is pitching in, James suggests this:

Call me a snob but I’m not naming my dog after a footballer, from Arsenal or anywhere else. (As an aside I know of a family who named their cat Lukaku after the footballer because she was black, and I came across someone in the park with a Cocker spaniel named Jarvis and a Somethingpoo called Cilla. Also black. Really? This sort of thing sticks in the craw.) The plot of Django Unchained was also explained to me as I haven’t seen it. Not Django, then.

This is a mere sample of the untold names that people have suggested for our future puppy, who is currently all of 6 weeks old, so Magnus doesn’t seem quite right either. Perhaps it’s best to wait and see which name he seems to like best. I register him with our vet as “Puppy.” Maybe that will stick.