The floodgates have opened. One of my favorite things to do is to name pets. I think I get it from my Grandma, who had a black Scottie that she named Rastiss, a goat named ZoZo and a cat named Ipsy, because she found it in Ipswich, Connecticut. My favorite was the cat she named after the town bachelor: John Slater.
I grew up with lots of pets. My Mom was a Pharmacist at Snyder Bros. Drugs. They had a little pet aisle. It was her job to formaldehyde any pets that came in sick. Of course, she couldn't do it. So we gave a home to one-eyed cockatiels, lame hamsters and canaries that wouldn't sing.
My Mom continued the fun pet names tradition. We had a canary that would sing only when we vacuumed. She named it Hoover.
Names have to present themselves to me. I am reading The Poisonwood Bible and decide it would be funny to give them all southern lady names. I name the black one (above) Orleana.
Naming things is so fun. I name my plants.
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