So maybe you have been wondering what my dog’s name ended up being. Maybe you have moved on to ponder other mysteries, like why Jesslyn doesn’t like Neil Young in the summer.
Just in case it’s the first, I will tell you. I have been calling my puppy Squinchy. I don’t know; it just happened. I meant to give him a real grown-up dog name, because he is a dog with his share of dignity and magnificence. I tried all kinds of things, but I just kept calling him Squinchy.
My brother did not approve. As he said, “What if all this time it was Squinchy Christ instead of Jesus? Could you take him seriously?” To which I ask, can you take someone whose name is pronounced Geeze-us seriously? Exactly. We’re just used to it.
Leaving the question of whether my puppy is a messiah aside, there was still the problem that when I call him Squinchy it sounds right, but a lot of times when other people say it I cringe. So I have decided that his official name is Eamon. It fits his old-fashioned subtlety. But honestly, I am still mostly calling him Squinch. You may do whatever you please.
Side note: A while back my brother asked my sister, “Was Jesus Christ Mexican?”