When I was 7 or 8, I got a dog, and I really really wanted to name him Scooby, like the cartoon dog, but I was wise enough to know that I would get laughed at and beaten for naming my dog after a cartoon dog, so I came up with an homage to Scooby that I knew would throw all the nay-sayers off of my trail.
I named him Scubby.
The neighbor across the street laughed at me, and said I was too chicken to name him Scooby, and he started to call ME Scooby.
So I drowned him. Which was a mistake, because his kickball skills were wicked, and my team was never the same. Well, not MY team, technically, but the team I would watch from safely from the other side of the fence, pretending I was a vital member.
Now our dog's name is Pepper.