A Hound and his Name

Certainly it's ideal, when naming someone, to get a glimpse of her personality first, so you can tell if you're dealing with a Claire or a Chloe. Sometimes though, that is simply impossible, and one must employ other means of arriving at an appropriate name.

Meet Lindsay and Matt. Lindsay is my sister, and Matt is her husband. They live in the beautifully dreary Puget Sound region (Puget (pew-jet) being, incidentally, rather ugly sounding) of western Washington, and they are sensible people: they keep a budget and like breakfast for dinner. They're also expecting their first baby in June. However, at the moment we're not concerned with the enticing question of what they'll name their little offspring; first, there is another member of the family we must consider.

Meet Jetson. Jetson is not at all sensible. He chews up potholders and sings "Roooo! Roooo!" quite noisily. He is an eighty pound coon hound from rural Idaho ("rural Idaho" is kind of redundant) whom Lindsay fell in love with via the animal shelter website. Regretfully Jetson has issues with his anal glands, so much so that his veterinarian is calling in a specialist to operate on them (which of course leads me to wonder how one's specialty becomes dog anal glands). The shelter staff had named him "Butch," which Linds and Matt knew was far too unsophisticated for such a (they were sure) deep and complex spirit. Thus began the quest for the perfect name for their noble beast. How did they land on Jetson (do you get the pun- land and jet)? Let's consider the process.

To begin with, Lindsay and Matt did not choose a name before the animal. This is significant, as it is not unusual (indeed, I often do this) to have a name in mind first. When Lindsay found herself back home in Puyallup with her seemingly amiable yet still enigmatic new pooch, she had do come up with something other than "Butch" that was not altogether different sounding (to ease the transition for him). At one point she and Matt tossed around the name "Jet." Jet soon evolved to "Jetson," and over the next few days they kept coming back to it. Lindsay explained that "Jetson is a sleek name, and he is a very sleek dog." The fact that his coat is jet black did not escape them either.

Perhaps you recognize the name as that of a famous futuristic cartoon family, but Lindsay assures that it's coincidental. They chose the name because it is unique (though they have heard of a couple other canine "Jetsons") and it tends naturally to the pleasant nicknames of "Jet" and "Jetty" (a must in my family of nicknamers). Thus Jetson was named.

Weeks after the fact, as his personality (or would it be poochanality) was made known, my sister and brother-in-law were convinced they had chosen well: "Jetson is a strong name, not for pansies." Lindsay remarked. Though (at times disastrously) boisterous and playful, Jetson is first and foremost devoted to his people. He is "droopy and sleepy" (Lindsay calls him "Honey Bunches" at such moments), but is also "prancy and jolly." Certainly not just any name would suit the big sock-stealing fellow; Linday and Matt sized him up, and it fits him well.