In that case, I'd be Shortz Andover.
Blame my sister; my first pet was a daschund, and she insisted on the name. Later in his life, after she was in college, I made a point of calling him Herman, Horatio, or Henrick, anything that started with an H. He always responded to those names, as he hadn't with that piece of S he'd been saddled with before. And my sister has turned out to be a cat person.