Sometimes you choose just the most perfect name for your pets that it’s uncanny. I guess sometimes that could happen with your kids, too, but well, I don’t know if any of us have kids old enough to prove whether their name truly fits them or not. But, pets—yes.

Donner was our beloved brain damaged Staffordshire Bull Terrier. We had a cat named Blitzen and we decided to go full cornball and name the dog Donner. Yes, there is much controversy about it—is it Dunder, or Donder, or Donner? We decided to go with the Gene Autry version (in Rudolph) and call him Donner. Which is the German word for Thunder. Donner was thunderous. He was strong and booming, a scary looking beast, but harmless in every way.

He was also, ironically, terrified of thunder. Thunder was his first phobia and finally the one that drove him mad enough for us to balance his quality of life with his length of life. He would whimper and quake in his nice safe kennel whenever there was a storm. If out of the kennel, he would dig (clawing at the carpet in different spots) or run back and forth in the house, obviously trying to find somewhere safe. The kennel, covered with a quilt, gave him some comfort during storms for years. But, then as he aged and his brain deteriorated further, it got worse and he would thrash inside the kennel and bite at the bars (tearing up his mouth once). Out of the kennel in a storm, he was just about crazed. Then one time, he growled and snapped during a storm and we had to make that awful choice.

He was thunderous and thunder was his nemesis, poor thing. His name was a fitting irony for him.

This is Harry:

Harry was my Christmas present a couple of years ago. My husband and three kids found him at the Humane Society and bought him for me. He is the first pet that my husband and I have shared ownership of that does not have a reindeer name. We had a bunch left to choose from, but none of them seemed to truly fit him. I pondered it for a few hours and then the name Harry popped into my head and it just seemed so perfect. It’s actually Harry Potter if you must know, but Potter is just his middle name and has so far turned out to be meaningless. The Harry part is dead on.

For one thing, Harry is hairy. Check out that tail alone:

This was a feature we didn’t appreciate when we first got him. He still had that kitten fuzz when he came to live with us. It was bristly and uneven kitten fuzz, showing somewhat that he would not be one of those very short-haired cats. But, his adult fur came in very long and silky. It’s not like Persian fluff, but more like an Asian rock star. When you get a clump of his fur in your hand, it ends up as smooth, straight black strands that can be half a foot long, depending on what part of the cat the hair fell.

Harry had poor grooming habits when he was a kitten. He’d been with his mother long enough to know better, but maybe it’s because he’s a boy, or maybe it’s because he had more room than he could handle, but the cat was a filthy little ball of scuz during his kittenhood. We’d have to chase him down and wipe him all over with baby wipes to be able to stand the thought of him walking on our carpet and sleeping on our furniture he was so unclean. This earned him the nickname “Dirty Harry” for a long time. He’s got much better hygiene now that he’s full grown.

But, he has a new nickname now—Harry Houdini. Yes, I’ve had cats my whole life and I’m well aware that a cat can fit through any opening as big as their head. But, it’s still impressive to see a full grown cat slither through a four inch hole in a screen. So, he continues to find ways to make his name work for him. Perhaps some day he will save us all from some bad snake, or ride away on a broom and his middle name will be meaningful too.