The great Bard once posed the question, "what's in a name?"
Maybe this is a heady topic for a 9 mo old French bully to contemplate, but lately I've been thinking a lot about it. My mom hates her own name so she took a lot of time thinking of mine (read: 2 days). A name is what everyone who's never met you judges you by (think of the weirdest moniker you can think of - yes I'm talking about you Pilot Inspektor - and what was your reaction?) so it's important your parents choose the right one!
My name is Hugo Comma Victor. Apparently my mom is a huge lit buff and she thought "Hugo" was a good rugged name that spoke to my heritage and also to my strong personality. I think I was named that in a previous life because the first time she called me that, I immediately perked my ears and tilted my head. Apparently she took that as a sign and from that point on everyone referred to me as the same (I liked it better than "fatty," "slug," and "piggy-pig").
Now you must be wondering how I got the "Comma Victor" part.
Well, one day I was racing around the family room with my pal Dopey and ran into the bookshelf. My mom really likes to read and her shelves are overflowing so a few books fell down. I just couldn't help sampling a few pages - with my mouth. Mom came around the corner and found me there literally red-pawed. (Or maybe red mouthed?)
I thought she would yell, but instead she just had a disappointed look on her face and then she began laughing. Apparently I was chewing - er reading - Lace Misers by a guy with a similar name to mine. She thought it would be funny to call me Hugo Comma Victor and it kinda stuck.
Cool name, huh?
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