Naming a puppy is hard. We searched through lists, created our own lists, crossed off names, added new ones. We asked people for advice and tossed around ideas as we walked, drove, bought chew toys (oh, goodness, we need chew toys), watched TV, made supper. This puppy is going to have this name for the next 10-18 years. It had better be good. It had better fit.
He was almost a Cooper. Almost a Zeus. Almost a Whiskey. Our friends would have named him Latte or Cappuccino to go with the drinks theme we had going that we never meant to start. (Ok, Pekoe was purposefully named after the tea. Mocha, though, we just liked!) We easily dismissed names like Max and Charlie (sorry guys…) because they seem far too common, far too ordinary, for a puppy who doesn’t seem at all ordinary to me.
He could have been the world’s most adorable Tippy. (My grandparents have always named their dogs Tippy. Every single one of them. I guess it makes the naming process pretty easy.)
While discussing puppy names with our neighbours over the fence, the 12 year old started talking about her friend, Kingsley, whose teddy bear had a long name because he couldn’t decide what to name it, so he just named it all the names he liked. Her suggestion wasn’t bad (Oscar), but the name she inadvertently suggested seemed to fit perfectly.
World, meet Kingsley.