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The perils of breaking
mom’s puppy-naming rule

When I adopted a rambunctious little pup a month ago, I never guessed picking a name would create such a family storm.

Since I was 3, I've followed a two-syllable, ending in "y"-sound rule in naming Wimpy, Putzi (she was adopted in Germany, pre-named), Wuffy, Murphy and Sally. My mom's rule was don't give an animal a human name, which I violated. (Co-worker Sally's ears perk up every time I mention Sally has bad breath because her teeth don't get brushed, and Sally's chubby because she eats too many treats.)

I visited a Web site boasting 2,000 pet names to search for the perfect name for the little pup, but tired of the search after going through just the "S" names.

People at work offered up names like Maggie (no, that's my friend's mother's name), Sophie (no, that's a co-worker's dog's name) and Sunny. OK, Sunshine was one I was tossing around.

This golden retriever was the right color and has brought a ray of sunshine into my life and that of my grandparents. She puts smiles on our faces with her antics and exuberance. But Sunshine was like "cutie pie," a term of endearment, not a name.

Nearly a week went by and nothing clicked. Then I visited my hairstylist Oliver, bringing my nameless pet along. I jokingly asked if I could name her after him. He said that would be fine. I tossed out Ollie, Oly, then Olivia.

Huge CLICK. It was so cute, I thought. After my haircut, I brought her into the office to meet my dog-loving co-workers.

"What's her name?" they asked.

"Oh, she doesn't have one yet, but I'm thinking of Olivia."

One reporter said, "That matches her but it's a lot of syllables."

Yeah, two too many, but cute nonetheless. Never mind that I was about to break my rule and my mother's.

Finally, my pet had a name.

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LEILA FUJIMORI / LFUJIMORI@STARBULLETIN.COM Olivia/Sunshine/Soleil by any other name would still be an adorable pup.

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NEARLY A WEEK passed and Olivia seemed to fit, although my grandmother called her Odibia and Odympia. I filled out the puppy's AKC papers with "Olivia," and the vet has her name on record, too.

An hour before our first puppy class, my mother called to ask what name I picked. No big deal, until I got a frantic call back from my mom saying, "You can't name her Olivia. Renee (my brother Leslie's girlfriend) picked that name for her daughter."

"What? I took nearly a week to find the perfect name. You've got to be joking. Tell her I already named her. The dog's gotten used to it. No I'm not changing her name."

At puppy class the teacher called all the pups by their names, and I congratulated myself for picking such a wonderful name for my baby.

One of the exercises was a name-recognition game. Olivia seemed oblivious to her name, her little back facing me as she stared at all the other puppies responding to their owners calling their names.

My mom called the next day. "You have to change her name. Leslie said Renee freaked out."

"Look, I picked first. Is she pregnant? What if they have three boys and no girls? What if they never get married? Tell her we've named her Hanako (my grandmother's suggestion)."

"I can't lie," my mom said.

Then my brother got on the phone. "You have to change her name. We've decided to name our daughter Olivia. Renee's always wanted that name and I like it, too."

"You're not even married. Is she pregnant? Are you sure you're getting married?"

"No. Yes."

"Well, can't you think of another name?"

"Can't you? Olivia is cute yet classy," he said.

"Yeah, it's very cute. That's why I want to keep it."

"Please. I promise we'll name our first daughter Olivia."

Whoa. My brother never says "please" to me. Reluctantly, I agreed to the name change.

"I was thinking of 'Soleil,' French for sun or sunshine," I said.

"Sounds like Sole," he said.

"Well let me have Olivia back."

He was quick to correct. "Soleil is good. Sunshine is good. Just don't call her Gwendolyn, either."

"Aaaacckk. That was my second choice." (Not.)

All this trouble over a puppy's name. I should have followed my mom's rule.

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Leila Fujimori is a Star-Bulletin reporter.