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A quarter century of Shirlee

Fart-squirrel. A term gifted to me by a woman as hilarious as she is hardcore, as caring as she is blunt, as principled as she is hopelessly addicted to iced tea. I say this having known her for only 46 days, because to meet Shirlee Roberts-Downey is to recognize the force of her.

For 25 years, SR-D has woven herself into this company to the point of true irreplaceability. Not just in terms of the broad and formidable skillset no resumé could capture, but also the personality she brings into every room. She’s on the short list of people I want on my team in the apocalypse, for the laughs and her ability to MacGyver absolutely anything.

If I feel this way after so little time working with Shirlee, you can imagine what her longtime coworkers are feeling on this special anniversary.

Former senior copywriter Aaron Bragg, known to Shirlee as “Beav” (short for Word Beaver – don’t ask), was the first to respond to my request for unbridled gushing.

I used to think Shirlee was the smartest person I’d ever met. Then I caught her listening to Bon Jovi. I know, I know, there’s always hope – after all, Jean Valjean finds redemption and Siddhartha eventually achieves enlightenment. Still, it’s like finding out that Mister Rogers is a serial killer.

Digital guru Mike Miller has been with the firm even longer than Shirlee, and they’re constantly on the phone solving tech puzzles that should be impossible.

I started working at Anderson Mraz Design about three weeks before Shirlee. I remember John and CK asking me how I would feel working with her. In my past experience in digital printing, my opinion of and interaction with Shirlee was that of a vendor on the receiving end of a perfectionist designer. I knew I would never be able to sneak anything that wasn’t perfect by her. I hope over the years that we have taught each other a few things and together learned how to push the boundaries of perfection.

Brand strategist/designer/resident Costco Fairy Linda Anderson shared a story that explains why Shirlee is brandishing a photo of a giant spider in her homepage mugshot.

I recall a day at our old office, where Shirlee, Aaron, and other designers shared a space. We’ve known that Shirlee has… ahem… unusual taste in pets, including reptiles. But this furry pet she kept at the office in a home her husband fashioned out of an old iMac case. The problem is, this pet had eight legs. One day, Aaron came in and discovered that the lid of the case was ajar and a couple of furry legs of her pet tarantula were hanging out. No, it did not get out; and I was across the office in another corner. But that was waaaay too close for comfort. I’ve never forgotten. We love Shirlee anyway – in spite of her creepy-crawlies. And now I have itches…

Principal and creative director CK Anderson counts on Shirlee to give him “that look” when something a client asks for isn’t gonna happen. Because if there’s a way, she’ll find it and make it look effortless (and possibly like a pipe bomb that might get you in trouble at the airport). I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets weekend calls from clients trying to figure out how to program their smart refrigerators.

Staying put for 25 years, particularly at a small company, is remarkable.

I’ve always felt that if there were a competition for production designers – a contest based on one’s knowledge of preparing files for reproduction, for every type of job imaginable, where accuracy and attention to details were measured, Shirlee would win hands down.

Without a doubt, Shirlee has helped maintain and strengthen the relationships with our clients – some of which she’s worked with since her first day on the job.

We’ll end with cofounder and “professional tumbleweed” John Mraz, because he legitimately gushed. On a recent visit to headquarters, he hung around to make sure he caught Shirlee coming back from her lunch break, just so he could get his hug. A bona fide bear-hug that spoke to the camaraderie running through the soul of this company. So obviously, Shirlee is a substantial piece of that soul.

Ahhh, Shirlee, Shirlee, Shirlee…

For starters, she’s lasted longer at AMD/HCKA than I did! And that’s a fact, Jack! To accomplish this feat, Shirlee has employed, deployed, and applied many skills and attributes, such as:

Eagerness to learn

Patience

Ambition

Even-tempered – vast majority of the time 🙂

Embracing new technologies

Admirable social skills with coworkers, vendors, and clients 

Patience

Good work ethic

Great sense of humor

Very teachable

Production file MASTER

Patience

Questionable… music choices (headbanger), movie choices (horror)

Loved the roller derby challenge… props for that

Dependable

Well-behaved 🙂

Seldom used “eye-roll” but highly skilled at answering a question, briefly, in a tone that conveyed an extra, silent, mental thought of, “You dumb shit.”

Gives best hugs!

Have I mentioned patience?

This could go on for a few more pages, but I will wrap it up.

Congratulations, Shirlee! To quote the great Tina Turner: “You’re Simply the Best!”

The One

I knew she was the one as soon as I saw her.

A classic beauty with strong lines and soft curves, who still has all her teeth.

I spotted her with the pre-owned pianos at Music City Spokane: a pristine 1975 Yamaha upright with French provincial styling and a dark cherry wood finish. And she sounds as lovely as she looks.

I really, really wanted to take her home.

But nice pianos – even used ones – aren’t cheap or easy. They need to be tuned regularly, they take up space, and they’re heavy and hard to move. Getting rid of an old one is like trying to sell a time-share.

Nobody wants it.

Which is why my practical side has always kept me safely sans piano.

My folks had one, though, and I played it almost every day as a kid. After nearly a dozen years of lessons – some enjoyed with more enthusiasm than others – I was proficient enough that my older brothers stopped teasing me, and I could manage quite a few classical pieces. But my playing tapered off after college, and my mom passed along the family piano to one of my brothers.

Years later, when my own daughter started lessons, I picked up a used Roland digital piano with a full keyboard and weighted keys. My daughter played it for a few years and then stopped taking lessons. Now, she’s gone to college, and the Roland is collecting dust in the guest room.

I don’t have the heart to play it, anyway. It just doesn’t have the sound or responsiveness of an acoustic piano.

The truth is, through all these practical years, I’ve missed playing the real thing. Even with my rusty fingers, I love to play the piano. It’s challenging and complex, fun and relaxing.

A few months ago, my husband and I moved to a new home, one with a living room large enough to fit a piano. So, when he suggested stopping by a local piano store “just to look around,” I agreed.

That’s when I saw her and – practical side be darned – bought her on the spot. I haven’t been able to keep my hands off her ever since.

I only wish I’d found her sooner.

Don’t wait 30 years to pursue what brings you joy.

1975 Yamaha upright

Design With a Cause

Dignified Workday photography

There’s an inspiring story behind Dignified Workday.

It all started when one person reached out to help one person. And it’s grown into a full-fledged program, one that supports dozens of unhoused people in our community by providing low-barrier jobs, a steady income, and the chance to build stability and find housing.

It’s all based on the simple concept that most people who are facing homelessness want to work. They just need to be given the opportunity. That’s where Dignified Workday comes in, and we were proud to help this new nonprofit program share its story through its website.

Dignified Workday isn’t trying to change the world. It simply offers people who are experiencing homelessness a chance to do work that makes a difference – in their lives and in our community. Thanks to low-barrier jobs in construction and property maintenance, participants have the chance to be constructive for part of their day, earn a paycheck, and feel pride and dignity in their work.

All of which helps them cope with their personal circumstances and build more stable lives.

After just one year, the program is already making a tangible difference in Spokane. Our team saw that difference firsthand, when we visited a few of the program’s worksites with our project photographer, Craig Sweat. It was apparent that Dignified Workday’s new tagline describes exactly whats happening with its crew members and their clients:

Real work. Real difference.

All design work has purpose, but when it’s tied to an important cause, it’s special.

We can’t wait for the next chapter in the story.

On Death and AI

Did you know that AI is writing obituaries now?

It makes sense, given how ubiquitous artificial intelligence has become in our modern world. But somehow, I’d missed this fact until a few months back, when I stumbled onto an obituary that was very clearly AI-generated.

The telltale signs were there: lofty yet generic descriptions; repetitive language; and a lack of real human emotion. Sure, the obituary was polished and grammatically clean. But it felt more plastic than organic, more trite than meaningful.

More machine learning than lived experience.

What do I mean? Here’s a sample obituary generated by an AI obituary writer:

Jenny will be remembered for her kind and gentle nature, her love of life, and her generous heart. She will be deeply missed by all who knew and loved her.

While seemingly heartfelt, this description is vague and superficial. It could apply to literally millions of people around the world. Many are kind and generous and love life. Nearly everyone will be missed in some way by those who loved them.

Compare that to an excerpt from this obituary, written by a person:

Her love of cooking was a gift she shared. It was her way of saying, “I love you”. During the holidays, she and her family made tamales together, and it wasn’t long before her tamales became well-known. Her husband willingly became her “tamale partner”, taking orders and delivering to family, friends and neighbors.

Though not as elegant, perhaps, it feels authentic. When you read it, you get a clearer picture of who this person was and what made her unique. It includes the kinds of details that wouldn’t be elicited from the generic forms of an AI service.

It’s wonderfully human.

Here’s the funny thing about the obituaries people write – they mirror real life. They’ve got quirks and errors and entertaining tidbits. They express joy and sorrow and humor. Yes, they can be awkward and formulaic, but hey, life can be that way too.

The obituaries we write should be unique because our lives are unique. No person on Earth has ever lived the exact same experience, from start to finish.

To be fair, I understand why people would use an AI service, and I don’t blame anyone who does. It’s tough to write a thoughtful account of your loved one’s life when you’re deep in grief and taking care of all the details that surround death.

Trust me, I know. I’ve been there.

I’m not opposed to AI. When used fairly and responsibly, it can make our lives better. But I believe the written account of a person’s one and only life is a place to honor our humanity rather than outsource it to technology.

For most people, an obituary is the only published record of their lives.

Shouldn’t we make those words count?

A 500-Pound Design Mistake

They say the camera adds 10 pounds, but in this case, it’s more. A lot more.

In September, the Florida State Seminoles introduced their new baseball director of operations, and this post popped up in my Instagram feed.

I did a double take, and I wasn’t the only one.

In this image, Drew Linder looks more like a linebacker than a baseball coach. His shoulders appear disproportionately larger than his head, making him seem hundreds of pounds heavier than he really is.

But the camera didn’t add the weight. The design did.

The problem here is the contrast – or lack thereof. The garnet polo shirt and background have the same visual weight, making them nearly indistinguishable at first glance. And, when it comes to social media, a glance is likely all you’ll get.

Visual contrast, through color, size, shape, etc., helps us quickly recognize distinct elements in an image and make sense of them. Good, purposeful design relies on contrast to:

• create visual separation between elements,
• establish a visual hierarchy,
• emphasize which element is most important,
• add depth and dimension, and
• create a sense of balance.

Without it, we risk confusing the audience or communicating something we didn’t intend to – and embarrassing ourselves or someone else in the process.

Kudos to the social media team at Florida State (incidentally, where the Big Dumper played college ball) for recognizing the mistake and posting a new image.

Thankfully, this one shed the excess weight.

 

One for the Win Column

This year, Ebay almost ruined Father’s Day for our family.

It all started in late April. We were watching a Seattle Mariners game on MLB.com, when the team advertised a cool giveaway for an upcoming game.

The Cal Raleigh Funko Pop.

(Cue the cheering, please.)

In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’ll explain. A Funko Pop is a pint-sized collectible with a disproportionately large head and oversized eyes. There are thousands of unique Funko Pops based on characters from popular shows and video games, as well as sports and entertainment figures. They’re pure cuteness and nostalgia.

This particular Funko Pop is based on Cal Raleigh, the catcher for the Mariners and my husband’s all-time favorite player. Cal is beloved by the Mariner faithful for his hard work, toughness, and calm demeanor, as well as his memorable nickname. “Big Dumper,” according to the New York Times, was affectionately coined by a former teammate to describe the size of Raleigh’s backside.

When we saw a promotional video with that adorable Funko Pop beside Big Dumper for a day of baseball – in the dugout, on the field, at a press conference – we had to be among the first 20,000 fans at the giveaway game.

We’re talking about Lil Dumper, for crying out loud!

But T-Mobile Park isn’t exactly in Spokane, and we already had plans that day. So, the kids and I settled for tracking down the collectible online after the game and ordering it as a surprise gift for their dad.

I warned him not to open any emails from Ebay because we’d ordered something for him. He didn’t open anything, of course, but he did get an email with this excessively specific subject line:

“Your 2024 Seattle Mariners Cal Raleigh Funko Pop SGA 5/3/24 just shipped.”

Thank you, Ebay.

We were busted, and the kids were disappointed. Lucky for us, there was still time to shop for another surprise before Father’s Day, and my middle school son was the one who found it.

A T-shirt with the words “Big Dumper” printed across the chest.

My husband was genuinely surprised when he opened that gift, and in the end, his day wasn’t ruined at all. He got something from the kids that he can wear proudly (if selectively), and his co-workers and friends have something to give him a hard time about.

Best of all, we got Lil Dumper.

Which may just be the Mariners’ biggest win all season.

Our Intern is No Oxymoron

“You can be cautious or you can be creative, but there’s no such thing as a cautious creative.”
– George Lois

The famed advertising executive and art director was right. The term cautious creative is an oxymoron; a true creative takes risks.

Our new intern, Gracie Alvarez, is a true creative.

On first impression – with her petite stature, soft voice, and delicate wire-rimmed glasses – she comes across as mild and unassuming. But beneath that quiet demeanor is a gutsy adventurer who’s waiting to take on new challenges.

It shows in her wide range of interests. Just look at this laundry list of likes and hobbies:

• animation
• motion graphics
• sewing
• knitting
• crocheting
• rock climbing
• aerial silks
• indie rock

Add in her nonprofit business, where she sells refurbished Barbies on Etsy and donates the profits to Shriners Hospitals for Children, and you’ve got a true jill-of-all-trades. Remarkably, she’s been motivated to learn many of these things all on her own.

This fall, Gracie will start her second year in the graphic design program at Spokane Falls Community College (which launches many a great designer). When she’s done, she plans to enroll in design at Eastern Washington University and earn a four-year degree.

“My ideal career would be remote so I can travel,” Gracie says. “I want to step out of what I know and experience different cultures.”

What tops her bucket list? Claud Monet’s house and garden at Giverny, in the Normandy region of France. Gracie would love to experience firsthand the inspiration behind Monet’s work – and practice her French while she’s at it.

Long-term, her goal is to become the creative director of an animation studio.

And as a true creative, she’s bound to get there.

Welcome to helveticka, Gracie.

helveticka's summer intern

When Punctuation is a Crime

I don’t know which offends more: the graffiti or the poor writing mechanics.

punctuation crimes

It’s painted over now, but for weeks, this graffiti along I-90 practically begged the question:

What’s with the quotation marks?

We can safely assume that the “author” didn’t consult the Associate Press Stylebook, which lists the following reasons to use quotation marks:

• direct quotations
• dialogue or conversation
• composition titles
• irony or sarcasm
• unfamiliar terms

None applies here. But I suppose that, as long as you’re vandalizing public property, you might as well vandalize the basic mechanics of writing as well.

Why do I bring this up? Do I think vandals give a spray can’s nozzle about punctuation?

No.

The problem is that they aren’t the only ones committing the crime. Businesses do it too, especially with advertising slogans and taglines, like this one:

helveticka
“Design that’s great since ‘88!”

This is a hypothetical example. Obviously. We don’t have a company tagline, and if we did, this wouldn’t be it. (Although, technically, it is true.)

It’s the type of tagline you’ll see plastered everywhere, from billboards to company vehicles. And it makes the business look amateurish. We’re all savvy enough to recognize that the short phrase following a company’s name is its tagline – sans quotation marks. Which makes them every bit as tired and useless as another punctuation offense.

The excessive use of exclamation points!!!

But that’s a post for another day.

Timeless Design

While working on one of our most meaningful projects, I had the opportunity to meet several talented individuals. At the time, we were producing a biannual promotional piece for a local printer – titled PROOF! – and the fourth issue featured the work of several Spokane modern architects, particularly Swiss immigrant Moritz Kundig.

As we developed the story of Moritz, along with other notable architects, we learned not only about his life and accomplishments, but also how a group of young architects in the late 1940s through the early 1970s helped shape the architectural landscape in ways that would persist for decades to come. The story was so compelling that we asked, and received approval from, the Northwest Museum of Arts and Culture to create the exhibition “Spokane Modern Architecture, 1948-73.”

Our copywriter at the time, Aaron Bragg, and I met with Moritz on several occasions. We continued to keep in touch over the years. Always kind, supportive, and understated, Moritz spoke with a dose of humor followed by a quick laugh.

He once told us, “I like to think that my buildings have character and integrity and are somewhat timeless.” That aptly described both the man and his work.

On February 10, Moritz Kundig, FAIA, passed away at 98 years old.

His architectural legacy, however, will live on.

Moritz Kundig

Moritz Kundig stands at the entrance of the Holmlund residence, one of his designs from 1963. The entry doors feature the work of the late artist Harold Balazs, a longtime friend and colleague of Kundig’s.

One of the Best

The year was 1982. It was the first (and only) time I worked for an advertising agency. And it taught me the value of designing with purpose.

Just a year out of college, I was hired by Doug Hurd and his business partner, Chuck Anderson (no relation). I worked for their agency, Anderson Hurd & Associates, for a little over five years. This experience gave me an opportunity to work on a variety of projects in different industries, present concepts to clients, and lead a small design team. During most of my tenure, our team included my future wife, Linda.

Doug was a creative force – both a smart strategist and a talented copywriter. He was generous and easygoing, always supportive, and kind-hearted. I recall his quick wit and wonderful sense of humor.

Outside the office, he had several personal interests. Most focused on athletic endeavors, but one that didn’t was flying. We would take off from Felts Field in a two-seat Cessna 152 and fly to Lewiston, Idaho to visit one of our clients. We’d have a client meeting, enjoy a late lunch, then fly back to Spokane. It was thrilling.

He, his wife Jeannie, and their daughter Allyson, enjoyed spending time at their cabin on the Pend Oreille River. They graciously hosted Linda and me on several occasions.

On October 5, Doug passed away. He lived life to the fullest, and I’ll never forget the trust he placed in me as a young designer.

 

Ad Clinic Team
Here, the gang at Anderson Hurd & Associates showcased the 1986 Spokane American Advertising Award’s call for entries – a parody on a WHEATIES cereal box. Doug is seen at the bottom of the photo. From left and clockwise, the rest of the team included Linda Anderson, CK, Bill Blanck, Sam Wolferman, and Julie Cook (center).

How to (Mine) Craft a Meaningful Experience

Do not touch mobs! Some of them might explode.

Whoa. Exploding objects are not what you’d expect in a museum. But that exact warning is posted throughout the newest exhibit of the Northwest Museum of Arts and Culture (MAC).

Clearly, at Minecraft: The Exhibition, visitors are playing in survival mode.*

When I took my kids to the exhibit two weeks ago, we encountered several hostile mobs, including a skeleton, an ender, a zombie, and a creeper who does, in fact, explode. (For the record, we did not touch any of them.)

It’s truly impressive – and I’m not just talking about the mobs that detonate. The 6,000-square-foot exhibit fills more than half the museum’s space, immersing visitors in a Minecraft world complete with life-size creatures, a working crafting table, day-to-night lighting, and authentic sound effects. The exhibit, which was developed by the Museum of Pop Culture in partnership with MoJang Studios, is likely the most complex exhibit the MAC has ever hosted, according to the museum’s director.

It’s also a far cry from the museum experiences I had as a kid. All I can remember are dusty artifacts behind plexiglass with dry-as-a-bone descriptions. And absolutely everything was hands-off.

Oh, how times have changed.

Today, museums like the MAC have shifted the focus from the artifacts themselves to the audience’s experience. An exhibit’s purpose, then, is not just to communicate information about a subject or collection, but to connect with the audience in a meaningful and visually appealing way.

It’s the same purpose behind the experiential design we do at helveticka.

If you haven’t had a chance to see the Minecraft exhibit yet, you’ve still got time. It runs through December 31. And according to my middle schooler, who is never melodramatic, it’ll be 1,000 percent worth your time.

As long as you don’t touch the mobs.

Minecraft Exhibit

*Note: In case you aren’t one of the 140 million people who play Minecraft every month, the popular video game offers multiple modes, including creative and survival, and a “mob” is a mobile entity, or a living being in the game.

Stop! Don’t Touch that Garden

Before you rush to clear the remnants of your late summer and early fall harvest, please keep this in mind:

Our furry, fuzzy, feathered, and winged friends deserve the garden bounty too.

That’s what I think when I see the squirrels in my spent garden, performing acrobatic stunts just to reach the sunflower heads. The stalks can’t support the full weight of a squirrel, so my furry friends will hold onto the fence with one paw while grabbing the stalk with another and ripping the head off the sunflower. It’s pure skill.

I couldn’t quite capture one in the act, but it’s sure entertaining to watch.

Based on the number of times I’ve seen this little guy, I expect a trail of new sunflowers will sprout next year.

The trash pandas and our resident nocturnal “fart squirrel” make their way through the ripened gourds and wayward carrots in the wee morning hours, joined by dozens of frolicking birds once the sun comes up, that are typically too quick to photograph.

As the leaves and stems start to pile up on the ground, I remember too that the butterflies and moths in their various stages – and all the other pollinator species – need the cover of the leaves to hibernate through the long winter. Meanwhile, the leaves will slowly break down, feed the soil, and maybe even suppress a few weeds come spring.

It’s a win-win in my book.

Cue the Goats

There’s a lot of drama in my neighborhood.

Animal drama, that is.

It beats any reality show on TV. In my yard alone, we’ve seen wild turkeys wander down the driveway, bucks spar by the trampoline, quail nest in the shrubs, and hawks nab rabbits right off the lawn. And who could forget the tubby raccoon that tried to use the cat door to get into our garage?

Not me. I discovered him.

It’s reached the point where our neighbors have even started naming the cast members. My personal favorites are Bruiser, the biggest, baddest buck in the hood, and Skippy, a gimpy doe who still manages to run off any animal that gets near her twin fawns.

deer in the front yard

Our neighbors gather in their front yards to dish about the animals – just like a bunch of Bachelor fans gossiping about who started the drama and what’s going to happen next:

“Did you see how Bruiser totally gaslighted Skippy?”
“OMG, yes! And I’m not even surprised. He’s such a thug.”

My husband and I hear about all the animal drama, whether we want to or not. Which is why we were so surprised, when we took a walk a few nights ago, to witness the most shocking episode yet.

A herd of goats was devouring the neighborhood.

Whoa. I did not see that plot twist coming. Frankly, I don’t think anyone did.

At this point, I should probably clarify that the goats weren’t eating our whole neighborhood. They were munching their way through a large, wooded hillside just east of all the houses. And they’d been brought into the neighborhood on purpose.

It turns out that goats are unlikely firefighters. In a matter of days, a few dozen can clear out acres of underbrush that might otherwise fuel wildfires.

Given recent tragedies in our region and throughout the world due to wildfires, I’m thankful for this latest turn in the neighborhood drama.

So, go ahead. Cue the goats.

I’ll keep watching the show.

That’s Punny: Why Dad Jokes are Serious Fun

Love ‘em or loathe ‘em, dad jokes serve a higher porpoise. Er, purpose.

If you find that hard to believe – and you probably do, unless you’re a dad – then trust me, I get it. My husband deals dad jokes regularly and without apology. Here’s one he shared recently:

Q: How do strawberries party?
A: They pump up the jam.

Sadly, our kids missed this one. But I guarantee that if they’d been around, the joke would’ve evolved into a full-blown performance of the famous Technotronic song, with dance moves.

Which would’ve elicited a look of disdain from our 17-year-old daughter and a comment about being “so cringy” from our 12-year-old son. (This comes from a kid who wears orange Crocs with knee-high socks and shorts every day.)

Their responses only encourage my husband. In his eyes, any reaction is a win – from a giggle to an eye roll to a full-on groan. He gets plenty of each at our house. Just don’t ask him to dish out dad jokes on demand. Apparently, they are as spontaneous as their source is mysterious:

“I don’t bring the puns, Denise. The puns come to me.”

Here’s the thing. Contrary to what most kids (and many adults) believe, dad jokes aren’t necessarily lame and uncool. Puns especially can be quite smart and witty.

“They can be a demonstration of wit, of cleverness,” says Peter McGraw, director of the Humor Research Lab at the University of Colorado, Boulder. “You’re relying on a person’s ability to parse language, to understand the nuances and complexities of words.”

And, more importantly, the lowly dad joke plays a surprisingly positive role in parenting. According to humor researcher Mark Hye-Knudsen, dad jokes teach kids to be more resilient.

“It is worth considering dad jokes as a pedagogical tool that may serve a beneficial function for the very children who roll their eyes at them. By continually telling their children jokes that are so bad that they’re embarrassing, fathers may push their children’s limits for how much embarrassment they can handle. They show their children that embarrassment isn’t fatal.”

So, we should probably give dads a break. After all, they’re sharing their best material.

For the kids’ sake, of course.

pun

Talk About Giving a Dog a Bad Name

Here’s proof that designer dog names have gotten completely out of control.

At a stoplight this morning, I pulled up behind a car that had a bumper sticker in the shape of a dog bone with these words inside:

I love my whoodle.

Call me ignorant, but I don’t know what a whoodle is. I’ve got to assume, based on the shape of the bumper sticker, that it’s a type of mixed breed dog. But which one? These days, there seem to be endless varieties of bougie designer dogs with absurd names.

During the rest of my drive to work, I mulled over the meaning of “whoodle.”

The “oodle,” of course, was obvious. It’s a poodle. But what about the “who”? I couldn’t think of a single dog breed that starts with the letters w-h-o. The closest would be a whippet. But, as I discovered later, after a quick online search, a whippet and poodle mix is called a whipoodle.

For real? Is a kid making up these names?

Don’t get me wrong. I like dogs, and I have one myself. Timber may be a plain old Labrador retriever, the standard vanilla of dog breeds, but he’s still a good boy who lives for food, naps, and belly rubs. I mean, just look at him. Who couldn’t love that face?

black Labrador retriever

People, on the other hand, are the ones coming up with these silly, over-the-top names for dogs. What’s the deal with all the whos, poos, and oodles? Why not just call the dog a poodle mix? Do we really need to invent a frankenword to describe man’s best friend?

With this naming logic, my childhood pup – a dachshund, schnauzer, and terrier mix – would have been a designer dog with an outlandish name. Like a weinerschnitzel.

Go figure. As a kid, I’d just assumed that Gus was an ordinary Heinz 57 dog.

As for the meaning of “whoodle,” I’d like to think that the “who” actually stands for, “Who got the poodle pregnant?” And the breed is essentially half poodle and half sneaky neighbor dog.

Now that’s a meaning I like.

And frankly, it makes a lot more sense than the real one.

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