Say my name

Say my name

Torvi will turn 5 months old in three days, and we've already known each other for two months. She, like her brother Trond, is a Greenland dog—tough, loyal, and wild. I wonder if she remembers her first three months in northern Sweden, where she was born in a sort of dog village, cohabiting with around 70 dogs, including both Greenland dogs and Malamutes.

While driving to pick them up, I tried to come up with names for the dogs. Playing around and brainstorming various names, but none seemed to stick. Near the destination, tired of the awkward combinations, I drove into a city—a sign read "Mora." "Oh, what a beautiful name," I thought to myself, and at that moment, a harmonious pair—Max and Mora—came to mind. Max and Mora, I chuckled to myself, remembering that the dogs' owner, Hendrik, is German.

I learned from my experience that a specific event, being, or phenomenon often tells its name; you just need to see it. So, I stopped my creative wanderings and look forward to my first encounter with the dogs. Over the next three days, I'll be staying with Hendrik's handlers at the kennel, getting to know their dogs and learning their training practices and daily routines. My new companions have already been given Viking names, which I am quite happy about—they also serve as a reminder of their origins and this special place by the riverbank.

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