Misnamer

I named our Newfoundland puppy "Posy" when we got her last summer. At the time, she was small, soft, gentle, and quiet, and it seemed like a good pick for her name. Also, easier to pronounce than what my kids proposed: "Minerva McGonagle," after a Harry Potter character.



Given that Posy has grown up to be a largely ill-mannered, foul-smelling gigantic black and white dog generally covered in mud and twigs and bearing no more resemblance to a dainty fresh bouquet of flowers than a pig does to a fragrant cup of tea, her name has turned out to be a bit inapt.

I think I was overcome by her pint-sized puppy sweetness. Or maybe my subconscious was playing a joke on me (that happens more times than I'd like to admit).

I'm not sure, but there are so many ways in which grown-up Posy is nothing like a posy:

1. She smells . . . bad. No getting around it. BAD.

2. Unlike a dainty bouquet of flowers, she does not elicit the "Awwww" reaction. Instead, we hear a lot of, "POS-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!" and "AYIIIIIIEEEEEE," sometimes even followed by the sound of a body heavily hitting the ground.

3. You would not want her on your desk. And definitely not in your lapel.

4. She is fresh only in the sense that she likes to leap up and rip your shirt off.

5. Except for the clumps of grass stuck to her undersides and the defective brown coloration on the tips of her ears, she is completely monochromatic.

6. She is neither small nor charming.

But like every dog, she has many winning attributes, too: She has an excellent sense of humor. She does not tolerate geese in her yard. She is very cuddly. She barks at strangers and other oddities. And she is, for the most part, very laid-back and friendly.

But as for the posy naming thing, that?

That is just ridiculous.