How to name a small dog, “Moose.”

By John Carlin
WSLS10 Anchor
Published: October 31, 2007

The problems started a few years back, in the year 2000, with the movie, O Brother Where Art Thou?

Two of the characters are staring at a toad, debating whether he is in fact their friend Pete.  The character Delmar is pretty sure it is, and that he’s been transformed into the amphibian by some beautiful, magical women.

The lines per my memory and a website called the Internet Movie Database went thusly:

Ulysses Everett McGill: I’m not sure that’s Pete.
Delmar O’Donnell: Of course it’s Pete! Look at him!…

We had just brought a new puppy home.  So cute was he, that family members – who have seen the O Brother movie too many times in the mini-van on long family trips, were compelled to look at the playful puppy and say naturally, “Look at him.”

Somewhere in the recesses of their collective consciousness came forth the associated line from the movie.

So, “Look at him.” Became, “Course it’s Pete.  Look at him.” And his name slowly morphed into, “Pete.”

This happened in just a few hours, while I was at work.  I was not involved in the conversation, and I would never name my dog, “Pete.”

First of all, I had a horse named Pete.  He was a good horse and Pete was a fine name, but he came with the name and it was never clever enough for me. I was happy to have a horse with any name, but if it had been up to me he would have had name with a little more, I don’t know, zest.

Second, I have known, many “Petes” over the years, and while I have generally liked all of them, it is difficult not to carry forward some personality traits with the name.  Here was this playful puppy, which beyond being adorable had no other known personality characteristics.  Why burden him (or me) with the collective traits of all the “Petes” I have known.

The dog is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.  The breed’s heritage dates to the King Charles era in England – roughly the 1600’s.  This opened all sorts of creative possibilities to give the dog a ridiculously noble name that could be construed as clever and fun if it was just ridiculous enough.  I was eying names such as, “Hamilton,” “Bentley,” “Bertwald,” “Alder,” “Fleming”—you get the idea.

Mary and the boys would have none of it.

So we were stuck.  No “Pete” for me.  No “Bertwald” for them.  Meanwhile the poor puppy was walking around wondering what his name was.

Then Tyler, my youngest came up with the name, “Kaiser.” “Kaiser” means “king.” “Kaiser” seems ridiculously grand for a small dog.  It tied into my theme even if it was German instead of English.  I voted yes, as did the other two boys.

Mary resisted.  Hard.

An interesting family dynamic evolved.  Though no one would admit it, everyone wanted to be the one who came up with the perfect name.  Tyler, as the youngest, was thrilled that he had 4 out of five votes in favor of “Kaiser.”

In fact, when he left early one Saturday morning for a day at Busch Gardens we were already beginning to use the name.

While he was gone, Mary mounted an offensive.  “We’re not calling the dog, “Kaiser,” she averred.

“Better come up with something better quick,” I countered, and it better not be “Pete.”

It had been 4 days.  The dog had been the family’s focus during all times we were not sleeping, and still no name.

Then Mary played her trump card.  “Moose,” she said.

It was a name we had been considering had we acquired a second yellow Lab.  It would have been perfect, but for a dog whose full size would be no more than 17 pounds, and likely less?

It was absurd enough to be perfect.  Anxious to end the fighting, I said, “Moose it is.”

Jonathan and Benjamin agreed.

But when Tyler came bursting through the door after being gone all day, and said “Kaiser, come!” We all felt a little guilty.

“Uh, We’re not gonna call him “Kaiser,” Ty, Mary said.  We’re going to call him, ‘Moose.’”

Tyler looked around the room and realized he had lost his 4-1 vote.  First he was crestfallen, then, he went into orbit.

An observer watching from the sky looking down on our house might have seen that it was not about the name… It was about being the one who came up with the name – an unspoken honor and quiet victory seldom won by the baby in the house.  Tyler had just gone form first to worst.

I felt bad, but I was afraid it would go back to “Pete.”

The older boys just wanted a name for their dog.  It was time to negotiate.

Using all the skills I’ve learned in 25 years as a journalist and 19 as a father I looked at my furious son and said, “What will it take to get you to call this dog Moose?”

“I want texting and a cell phone upgrade,” he said almost without missing a beat.

A day later, after negotiating with the cell phone company, he had text messaging, a slightly newer phone and we had our deal.  Whew.

So, see that picture at the top of this column?

‘Course it’s Moose.  Look at him.