Thanks to the nice puff piece on the Power family in “Old Times,” I’ve been taking some well-deserved heat because we named our dog “Fenway.”
“What’s wrong? You weren’t creative enough to call him ‘HSBC Arena’?”
I deserve this, of course, but if I had had my way, things would be different. “Fenway” was a compromise solution and came about because of a flawed democratic process, which allowed everyone in the family — and not just all married men over 50 as I suggested — a vote on the matter.
I wanted to name the dog after subordinate conjunctions, if for no other reason, than the joy it might bring whenever the dog got lost.
Imagine onlookers watching 5 kids and 2 adults’ running around the neighbourhood yelling, “However” or “Nevertheless” or “Even Though” at the top of their lungs. A scene such as that might lighten the psychic burden of even the most heavy-hearted grammarian.