Clients do funny things. From the little old lady who would bring in a street wasteling and when asked its name, says the name of the person helping her hoping to gain favor to the appreciative client who names their next pet after you in some way when they get the new replacement pet for the one you ministered to when it was passing away. I’ve gotten referral notes from the teaching hospital at the school I graduated from, starting “My Name” (a pet) was presented for care on “date” …
The most unusual way I found that there was a pet with my full name (unusual) out there was when I walked into the VIN (veterinary information network) office in Davis, 70 miles from my home and visited the CEO founder in his office. A fellow was sitting at a desk. I said hi and introduced myself. Sometimes a guy will nod, just say, shake hands or present first and/or last name. Because I thought I may know this person by name if not in person I gave him my whole name.
He looks at me and asks if I know a fellow named (for anonymity sake, initials only) VY? Boy did I. One of the more eccentric clients ever from my time in corporate practice in Oakland a few years previous. This guy had an old car that barely ran. Only a Pit Bull or two that I took care of over about 10 years. had this wild look in his eye with wispy hair never changed his clothes in 10 years which is not to say he was unclean. And the single most identifying characteristic was the single cracked lens of his glasses. He wasn’t particularly financially well off. And as such I would generally give him a break.
Needless to say he was one of the more eccentric of my clientele, with the proverbial heart of gold. He never barely had any money to care for the dogs but brought them in regularly for care. He found creatures in the street and took them on. One of those. Usually with pretty wild stories about how they got in a fight and what he did to break them up, graphic details included including angles his body parts took in order to do so and acted out right there in front of me. That kind of thing.
So the mysterious stranger tells me the story of meeting my old client one day in a casually, but at VY’s house. Apparently a kitten (cats? kittens? I had only known VY to have dogs) was on the what passed for a dining table eating from an opened can of tuna. Of course. The stranger asked about him. VY says “here, you want him?” and pops it into his arms. Then:
(wait for it)
“His name is (my full name)”
This guy, I had just met, took him home, renamed him “Goofy” as there was more than a physical resemblance (usually how pets get named) but a behavioral one to the animated dog character. The cat would meet people/visitors at the door, bug them, hop in their arms and love all over them. In the words of the fellow, “the greatest cat ever.”
Of course he was. He was named after me!
A reminder had not come to mind for him for the few years it had been since he met VY until I walked in and said hello. With my full name.
What are the odds?