Courage is not a dog
Courage is not a dog. I like dogs but I don't need one right now.
If I had a dog, I might or might not christen it Courage. Isn't it better to find out after observing the puppy over a period of time, say, a week at least, before deciding on a name that will stick with the dog like a flea for the rest of its life? Or does it work the other way round, meaning that, first you decide on a name and you give that name to the pup the day it got into your life and your home.
How people choose names for their dogs is their unalienable rights. Some name their dogs after someone they admire or love. In some cultures that is an honour. In other cultures it is an insult. Others name their dogs after certain values or attributes.
At this point in my life I have never ever heard of any dog named after a nation. So I've never heard of a bull dog named Britain, though quite possibly some have named their bull dog Winston or Churchill in memory of a great leader of Great Britain. It's one or the other. But to name a dog Winston Churchill might be going too far. No, I've not heard of a dog named America or Argentina. Neither have I heard of any dogs named after cities - not that I know of - imagine a dog named Tokyo or Boston. Maybe there are.
My uncle once had a cute dashhund, real short and real cute. I liked her but not her name - Lulu. It's like someone's mocking my surname 2 times in one breath. My surname's Lu. Maybe my uncle named her without any intention whatsoever to mock me. Deep within me I just know he had no such motive. He's just not that kind of a man. He's with Jesus now. I miss him. I miss Lulu too.
I remembered a famous Japanese dog, a faithful and loyal dog that once lived and frequented the Shibuya station. Hachiko was its name. A touching movie was produced by that name starring Richard Gere. I loved the movie. A tear jerker. It grips your heart and then breaks your heart.
So you name the cute looking bright eyes soft furry ball of delight Courage. At this point, it doesn't matter if the dog lives up to its name. It is just a name. But you hope somehow that you can impart the dictionary definition of courage through some sign language, mixed with your own set of funny facial expressions and voice commands, that Courage will get a whiff of understanding on the meaning of courage.
Do you bring Courage on some death defying, fear overcoming exercises to beef him up in courage - assuming Courage is a he. But even if he is not a he, but a she, there's no law that it is illegal to call her Courage. Do you send Courage to a special dogs only boot camp where dogs or pups graduate with a military crew cut and barks out yes sir, no sir in response to the master?
Perhaps you'd like to call your male or female dog Courage because that is what you aspire to in your own heart, for yourself. It's your own version of applying NLP perhaps. And so every time you call out for Courage, you are subconsciously imprinting that neuro-linguistic programming into your own brains.
In the garden of Eden, whatever Adam called the animal, that was its name. So while the honour of calling a dog, a dog has been taken, you have the distinction and honour of naming your dog a name of your choosing.
Perhaps you needed that external living object of a dog to remind you of what you desired in your own self. After all, you've already got your own name, most likely given to you by your parents, or perhaps, by your grandparents. On top of that your pals might have given you fond nick names, and your enemies have likewise given you some less than mentionable names. And now its your turn to inflict either a curse of a name onto your dog, or to bestow a blessed name upon your dog. This is serious. Naming a dog is for life.
And so, in your first day of bonding with your cute puppy, with all the peculiar puppy smells, you call your dog Courage. And so it begins. Courage, I'm home! Come here Courage! Good dog! Good girl! (I've heard people calling their dogs good girl, but I've not yet heard anyone call their dogs, good boy! Why is that? Is it some kind of unconscious sexist plot that have crept silently into the canine world?)
The law of association kicks in for Courage. It's the Pavlovian thing all over again! Courage makes the connection between this two syllable word to mean itself. And Courage's owner, and the entire household fills the house with the sound of that name - at different times - when the kids come home from school, when mom asserts her position in the family tree since Courage assumed the right to lie on the couch. Of course there is also the tail wagging welcome for dad when he's home early and takes Courage with him on his afternoon runs around the lakeside park.
One wonders how in time, Courage becomes a true part of the family, and how courage becomes a core value in the family, from little Sarah who is barely 5 months old, to Sandy who's blooming into a beautiful teenage daughter, to Shaun who is on the verge of leaving home and entering a new world called university life. Of course mom and dad are not missed out in this great cultural revolution. Most notably, on dad, since he's the one who chose that name for the four legged family addition.
Years pass, and Courage grows with the family. There were seasons when great storms and tragedies swept into the family living room, unwanted and uninvited. And Courage was there, sensing and understanding the loss and emptiness everyone went through because dad is not around anymore. No more runs, no more of that man's strong and gentle presence - not there for mom, nor for Shaun, Sandy, or Sarah. Not there for Courage.
The day came when Courage fades from the scene - an old dog, weakened and tired out by the seasons of life. Courage passed quietly on a quiet wet afternoon. The sky outside was filled with gloom, and wept in drizzles as if mourning the dear family member. But Courage lingers on in the memories of mom in her grey year, and in the family reunions when Shaun regales to all of the incidents that memorialises Courage. Sandy remembers, so too Sarah - both grown ups with lives of their own.
Dad smiles in heaven. Courage is there too.
If I had a dog, I might or might not christen it Courage. Isn't it better to find out after observing the puppy over a period of time, say, a week at least, before deciding on a name that will stick with the dog like a flea for the rest of its life? Or does it work the other way round, meaning that, first you decide on a name and you give that name to the pup the day it got into your life and your home.
How people choose names for their dogs is their unalienable rights. Some name their dogs after someone they admire or love. In some cultures that is an honour. In other cultures it is an insult. Others name their dogs after certain values or attributes.
At this point in my life I have never ever heard of any dog named after a nation. So I've never heard of a bull dog named Britain, though quite possibly some have named their bull dog Winston or Churchill in memory of a great leader of Great Britain. It's one or the other. But to name a dog Winston Churchill might be going too far. No, I've not heard of a dog named America or Argentina. Neither have I heard of any dogs named after cities - not that I know of - imagine a dog named Tokyo or Boston. Maybe there are.
My uncle once had a cute dashhund, real short and real cute. I liked her but not her name - Lulu. It's like someone's mocking my surname 2 times in one breath. My surname's Lu. Maybe my uncle named her without any intention whatsoever to mock me. Deep within me I just know he had no such motive. He's just not that kind of a man. He's with Jesus now. I miss him. I miss Lulu too.
I remembered a famous Japanese dog, a faithful and loyal dog that once lived and frequented the Shibuya station. Hachiko was its name. A touching movie was produced by that name starring Richard Gere. I loved the movie. A tear jerker. It grips your heart and then breaks your heart.
So you name the cute looking bright eyes soft furry ball of delight Courage. At this point, it doesn't matter if the dog lives up to its name. It is just a name. But you hope somehow that you can impart the dictionary definition of courage through some sign language, mixed with your own set of funny facial expressions and voice commands, that Courage will get a whiff of understanding on the meaning of courage.
Do you bring Courage on some death defying, fear overcoming exercises to beef him up in courage - assuming Courage is a he. But even if he is not a he, but a she, there's no law that it is illegal to call her Courage. Do you send Courage to a special dogs only boot camp where dogs or pups graduate with a military crew cut and barks out yes sir, no sir in response to the master?
Perhaps you'd like to call your male or female dog Courage because that is what you aspire to in your own heart, for yourself. It's your own version of applying NLP perhaps. And so every time you call out for Courage, you are subconsciously imprinting that neuro-linguistic programming into your own brains.
In the garden of Eden, whatever Adam called the animal, that was its name. So while the honour of calling a dog, a dog has been taken, you have the distinction and honour of naming your dog a name of your choosing.
Perhaps you needed that external living object of a dog to remind you of what you desired in your own self. After all, you've already got your own name, most likely given to you by your parents, or perhaps, by your grandparents. On top of that your pals might have given you fond nick names, and your enemies have likewise given you some less than mentionable names. And now its your turn to inflict either a curse of a name onto your dog, or to bestow a blessed name upon your dog. This is serious. Naming a dog is for life.
And so, in your first day of bonding with your cute puppy, with all the peculiar puppy smells, you call your dog Courage. And so it begins. Courage, I'm home! Come here Courage! Good dog! Good girl! (I've heard people calling their dogs good girl, but I've not yet heard anyone call their dogs, good boy! Why is that? Is it some kind of unconscious sexist plot that have crept silently into the canine world?)
The law of association kicks in for Courage. It's the Pavlovian thing all over again! Courage makes the connection between this two syllable word to mean itself. And Courage's owner, and the entire household fills the house with the sound of that name - at different times - when the kids come home from school, when mom asserts her position in the family tree since Courage assumed the right to lie on the couch. Of course there is also the tail wagging welcome for dad when he's home early and takes Courage with him on his afternoon runs around the lakeside park.
One wonders how in time, Courage becomes a true part of the family, and how courage becomes a core value in the family, from little Sarah who is barely 5 months old, to Sandy who's blooming into a beautiful teenage daughter, to Shaun who is on the verge of leaving home and entering a new world called university life. Of course mom and dad are not missed out in this great cultural revolution. Most notably, on dad, since he's the one who chose that name for the four legged family addition.
Years pass, and Courage grows with the family. There were seasons when great storms and tragedies swept into the family living room, unwanted and uninvited. And Courage was there, sensing and understanding the loss and emptiness everyone went through because dad is not around anymore. No more runs, no more of that man's strong and gentle presence - not there for mom, nor for Shaun, Sandy, or Sarah. Not there for Courage.
The day came when Courage fades from the scene - an old dog, weakened and tired out by the seasons of life. Courage passed quietly on a quiet wet afternoon. The sky outside was filled with gloom, and wept in drizzles as if mourning the dear family member. But Courage lingers on in the memories of mom in her grey year, and in the family reunions when Shaun regales to all of the incidents that memorialises Courage. Sandy remembers, so too Sarah - both grown ups with lives of their own.
Dad smiles in heaven. Courage is there too.
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