Sharon P. (SLPETERS), USA Today pet columnist

I learned the importance of giving my pet the right name when I was 7. My grandparents bought me a puppy from a box in a parking lot, a border collie we were told, a tiny little black-and-white fur ball. I quickly decided to call him “Tippy” for the white tip on his tail. Soon it became obvious that this was a name that bordered on ludicrous. Tippy grew into a 90-pound behemoth. “What’s your dog’s name?” people would ask as this massive creature lumbered forward. “Tippy” I would squeak. And they’d roar with laugher over the 5-pound dog name attached to a moose-sized canine.

Eventually I began telling people his name was Tippecanoe, a word that rose from a history book like a life raft to save me from further ridicule. And later I added ”Crowned Warrior” for reasons unclear. Other people had dogs named Queenie and Buffy. I had one with the ginned-up, much-altered name Tippecanoe Crowned Warrior.

However humiliated Tippy might have been about all that, he escorted me loyally through childhood and died an old dog when I was in college.

Just before college graduation in the 70s, I became besotted with an Irish Setter puppy. I managed to come up with the cash to buy him, then lapsed into naming paralysis since he was a purebred, and I’d have to register his name. His mother had the appropriately Irish and witty name KErin Go Braugh, so the bar was pretty high. And the hideous naming error of my youth was still fresh in my mind. I decided after several days that Shaughnessy was a fine and fitting Irish name, but believed he needed a surname since I’d never really heard of a purebred with just one name. One day in class when I was thinking about his great comedic style, it arrived: Shaughnessy Shenanigan. I registered it proudly. It’s worth noting that the second part of the name was never referred to again in his life, which was just short of 16 happy years.

Next, living in Kentucky, I adopted a chocolate lab (probably a mix) puppy from the shelter. Bold, irrepressible, potent, he quickly established himself as a force of nature that sauntered rather that walked. He didn’t get a name for eight weeks. And before the right name arrived, I had to take him for an emergency visit to the vet. As I slammed into the parking lot with an ailing puppy, I realized they’d ask his name and I’d have to say he didn’t have one. How bad does that look? You’ve had a dog for a month and you haven’t named him? So, I thought, he’s brown. I’ll tell them his name is Sawyer. Sawyer Brown. Popular country group at the time. Get it? And this being Kentucky, everyone at the vet clinic was charmed. But Sawyer wasn’t really his right name. I knew it and the dog knew it. Weeks later it finally came to me. Buck. Short, direct, no-nonsense. Kinda country. Perfect for a Kentucky-born trouble-maker that lived all of his 12 years at full throttle.

Then along came my mixed-breed rescue, a sensitive sort who arrived four years ago as an overwrought 18-month-old pup with the name Josiah. I hated it and so did he. Whenever I said Josiah he’d look up fearfully, like he was going to get hit or yelled at. He’d obviously come from a place where his name was roared before he was punished. His new name, Jasper, arrived out of the blue one morning, quite easily. It’s a tender name, perfect for an uncommonly perceptive guy that has now become a registered therapy dog.

Soon another dog moved in: A big old brown malamute/German shepherd mix that the shelter named Gunter when he was brought in as a stray. Really, that was a worse fit than Tippy. Gunter sounds sharp, rigid. This is a goofy-looking, aw-shucks kind of dog, gentle and pacifistic in nature. He became Rufus that very day. It is, perhaps, the most ideal of ideal names. Complete strangers declare “He totally looks like a Rufus.”

Gus the Cat was quick, too. He’d had an unpronounceable name when abandoned at the vet with a broken leg. Gus seemed right for a solid, even-tempered friend of all creatures. I still like the name Gus. He prefers Cat.

Now comes LilyBean, a delicate, short-haired, athletic girl with a tiny meow and affectionate nature. I’ve got total brain barrier. Nothing seems just right. It’s been nearly a month, and I’m not even close. Living in Colorado, I appreciate names like Aspen and Alpine, and Blizzard, but I haven’t found the right one. I had a moment when she seemed quite British to me, and I began thinking in that direction, but no luck. And old-fashioned names like Minerva and Calpernia are appealing, because she’s a little retro in ways I can’t precisely describe, but nothing’s clicked. And I also love the idea of finding a name from a different language that has feline-personality significance. But, really, I’ll consider anything.

And, for the record, I really do understand that this isn’t a matter of huge significance. It’s a cat’s name. And if it takes six more months before a good one plops into my head, big deal. Still, you know how it is!
So if something occurs to you, please share.

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FROM ZOOTOO:

Each entrant may submit 1 name for Sharon L. Peters' new cat. Entry will be limited to individuals who are 13 years or older. Sharon will pick the three best cat names suggested on this journal entry. If more than one user suggests the same winning name, the user who suggested it first will be selected. The three (3) winners will be awarded by Zootoo a Flip Video Camera made by PureDigital with an ARV $149.99. Entries may be submitted beginning on January 13, 2009 from 8PM EST through 12PM EST on January 19, 2009. The winners will be selected on January 19, 2009 and notified within 48 hours of selection.

Read Sharon's column onwww.usatoday.com