I recently got a gorgeous crimson Phalaenopsis orchid. My other orchid, a white Phalaenopsis named "Puppy", was named in honor of the Dachshund I coveted, but didn't dare get. The cats would have gleefully used it as a croquet mallet, and raised mouse hunting to a whole new level of sadism.
The new red-violet orchid has two different stems, each of course requiring its own name. (The characters in my current novel all have their names already, so it's the defenseless plant's turn to suffer.) Alizarin for one of my favorite paint colors, and Fang because when I'm crouched on the floor, laptop balanced on the couch or coffee table, my usual work position, the plant looms menacingly over my head. Fang looks pissed if it doesn't get its ice cube on time, and apparently hasn't gotten the message that Halloween is over and vampiric plants are passé. Alizarin just grooves on all the free carbon dioxide from me panting away beside it.
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