We have a new dog – Keeper. Like a goalkeeper in soccer. Or: “Look at him; he’s a keeper.”
I don’t have many skills, but I’ve been told I’m pretty good at naming things. At the newspaper, any time someone needs to name something, I get a call. I came up with Keeper.
I don’t consider this bragging because naming things is not a high-demand skill, and it pays literally nothing. Saying you are good at naming is sort of like saying you are good at digesting cough drops. Nobody cares.
I thought Keeper was an original name until I found out that Emily Brontë – author of “Wuthering Heights” – had a dog named Keeper in the early 19th century. I’m old, but not that old. Still, I’m willing to drop the original claim in deference to the novelist and instead call the name timeless.
Keeper was an impulse purchase. We bought him from a breeder in Henagar, Alabama. For almost 24 hours, the dog’s unofficial name was “New Puppy.” When I called to make his first vet appointment, I told them to make it for “New Puppy” Kennedy.