Hey, Culligan! A dog in your ad named Maureen????

I was only half paying attention to the Culligan ad. That is until I heard my name.

I looked up.

Oh, the young woman in the ad is named Maureen. Odd, that. A name that was wildly popular when I was a girl – at least in precincts that were loaded with Irish Catholics – has gone the way of Bertha and Ethel. Not to mention less fogeyish but nonetheless obsolete names like Karen, Nancy, Linda, and Sandy. Even at the height of its popularity, Maureen as a name occurred more in real life than in books, movies, songs, ads.

There was a Maureen character in one of Joyce Carol Oates earlier novels. And Maureen was, as I recall, the bad cousin in a novel by priest-potboiler-writer Andrew Greeley. (The good cousin was Ellen, I believe. Art imitating life??? I’ll have to ask Ellen.)

Maureen is a character in Rent.

I’ve never heard my name in a song, although I could have sworn that in “Look at Killer Joe Go” (1963), Killer Joe was dancing with Maureen. Nope: Marie.

Sigh. No one wants to “Take You Home Again, Maureen.”

A meh name.

That has now made it into an ad for Culligan Water.

But it’s not the young woman in the ad who’s named Maureen. It’s her pug. In case you missed it, here’s the copy:

You didn't choose just any dog, you chose Maureen. Don't give her water smelling of chlorine! Your family of all shapes, sizes, and breeds deserves filtered Culligan water, so why wait? Ask your Culligan Water Expert for more information at heyculligan.com.

Hey, Culligan. You didn’t just choose any name for that dog. You chose Maureen. Huh?

Although it’s something of an insult to dogs, I have no problem with humans giving dogs human names. After all, there are so many ways in which dogs are better than humans. They have exceptional EQ. They’re honest, unpretentious, and  know themselves.  I realize this argument could go either way, but I’ll come down on the side of it being okay to give a dog a name generally associated with humans.

Even in my childhood, when dogs had dog names, there were dogs with “real” names.

Sure, my neighborhood had Shep, Blackie, Dapper, Clipper, and Queenie. Then there were Brian Boru (a Kerry blue) and Rasputin (a German shepherd), which are human names. But there were also a couple of doggos with more pedestrian human names: Cindy the beagle, Sid the mutt.

My grandmother had a string of black Labs: Midnight, Thunder, and Lightning. But my Uncle Jack had a mutt called Luke.

In books and on TV, dogs were mostly doggily named: Lassie, Old Yeller, Rin Tin Tin. One of my favorite books featured Pantaloon, a black poodle.

But there was also Harry the Dirty Dog.

My bottom line: I’m fine with dogs with human names. (Although on the day my niece Molly was born, I was somewhat taken aback as I walked down Charles Street and passed a woman talking to her yellow lab, Molly.)

In my building there’s a yellow lab named George, a Frenchie named Henry. Someone with a mutt named Rosco is a frequent visitor. As is a Chihuahua called Frito. A friend recently lost his Dalmatian Lily.

A cousin of my husband had Jack Russells named Jackie and Russ. And a German shepherd named Britta. My sister-in-law had bichons called Addie and Coco.

My friend Marie had a mutt named Hazel, followed by a chocolate called Boomer, and a yellow lab named Wilbur. Wilbur died a couple of years after Marie did. The new dog in her house is called Rufus. (Marie’s family dog when we were in high school was Sam.)

My family had a German shepherd named Grimbald, a mighty German name. But mostly it came from Miss Grimble Cheesecake.

My sister had a beloved black lab called Jack.

When I’m out and about, I run into a lot of Charlies. Maggies. Maxes. Sams.

But a dog named Maureen? And a pug at that.

If you’re going to name a dog Maureen, could it at least be a charming, adorable lab of any color. Or a smarty pants pupper – say a border collie, a poodle.

But a pug?

It’s not their fault, they were bred that way. But that pushed in face, the snuffling because they can’t breathe all that well? I’m sure they’re sweet and all that.

But thanks but no thanks.

In any case, Maureen is just not a particular good dog name. Some names just aren’t.

Pete is a decent dog name; Paul isn’t, for some reason.

Maggie works. But who’d call a dog Margaret?

In general, nicknames work better than proper names. Jack vs. John. Charlie vs. Charles.

So why not call the Culligan dog Mo(e)?

Moe makes a quite good dog name. I believe that Subaru uses it for a labby in one of their ads.

But Maureen as a dog name? Just plain weird. Not insulting, mind you. Just weird.

I will note that Culligan is an Irish last name. Perhaps there’s a Maureen Culligan out there, and naming the pug Maureen is an in joke.

I am thinking (seriously) about getting a dog. I have shortlisted some names. I’m leaning girl, and am leaning Miss Pym, after the writer Barbara Pym. Her nickname would be Pymmie. I like Maisie, but I believe my niece Molly has dibs on that.

For a boy, I like Roscommon, after an ancestral county in Ireland. Rosco for short.

I’d also consider Diggy or Diggs, nicknames that my husband went by. (Jim’s last name was Diggins.) It would make an excellent dog name, and I know that Diggy would get a kick out of it.

But a dog named Maureen? What was Culligan thinking?

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In case you’re interested, here’s a link to the ad. Arf!