The Yorkshire Vet: The perils of naming animals - Julian Norton

However, from experience I can offer warnings about naming animals. One client has owned a series of Border Terriers, each one called Sandy. The one I look after currently is “Sandy V”, as in Sandy the fifth. I know this, but colleagues scrutinise the records and think he is actually called Sandy V. Whilst this strategy is simple and saves the need to think hard about the name of a new pet, it’s pretty secure and problem-free. However, the naming of two cats, for example, “Gin and Tonic”, or “Bubble and Squeak” seems to increase the chances of Bubble or Tonic succumbing to a premature end.

Equally, naming animals after a specific person is fraught with problems. Twenty years ago, I went, on a Sunday, to a farm just outside Thirsk to help a cow that was struggling to give birth. I took my son, Jack, with me to watch. He was about three or four and stood obediently where I told him to, and watched with astonishment as a slimy calf landed on the straw and spluttered to life. The two farming brothers decided to give the calf a name (which was not their usual habit), and the spectacular Limousin cross bull calf was named after my first son. It was quite an honour for me, though the human Jack was less aware of this.

A few weeks later I was back at the farm, looking at another patient.

“How’s big Jack getting on?” I asked, expectantly. He was a strapping calf and I hoped to hear nothing but great things about his progress and that he was developing into a fine youngster, just like his namesake.

“Well,” explained one of the brothers gloomily. “Sadly, Jack is no longer with us. He was squashed by his mother a few days later. It was such a shame because he was a great calf and his mum had had many calves before Jack, so she should have known what to do and what not to do.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell the real Jack about the tragedy. I hope Florianne Norton doesn’t suffer a similar fate. It seems unlikely.