One day a number of years ago my child (dog) Tarzan showed up at my doorstep. I took him in, as I did later with my other child Rocky. I had to find a name for him. As a child and teen, I lived on Long Island in a very small town called Woodmere. Most people don’t think of towns outside of New York City to be small towns with a small-town culture. These towns that were one after another all had their own personality. Everyone knew the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick-maker. The town had a drunk by the name of Barney who everyone took turns taking care of. There was also a large black mutt by the name of Tarzan that lived off the whole town. Both Barney and Tarzan were well taken care of.
Since my new pal just showed up much like Barney, or the mutt dog Tarzan would do when I was a boy living at Woodmere I thought that Tarzan would be a great name for my new friend. I hope that I do not sound too self-serving, but I was very glad it was not another Barney at my doorstep. If it had been I’m sure that I would have taken him in also.
Now when I walk Tarzan the kids in the neighborhood all yell; hey Tarzan. Now Tarzan being a dog does not have a good command of the English language. Rocky can say my first name he says; “Irarra” when he wants me to take him out for a stroll. Tarzan and I both love kids so I always waved back at them. I’m sure that their mothers and fathers think that I think that I am Tarzan.