When I was a kid, I collected frogs, live frogs, and I didn’t even get warts. There was a muddy Georgia creek close by and it was prime frog habitat. Sometimes we’d go to the creek and dip a scoop of tadpole water into a pot, take it the front yard, and check daily on their progress.
My frogs were special. They had names. I named all my frogs “George.” That’s a good name for a frog because they all like being called “George.”
One day my sister said, “Let me name this frog.” I said, “Okay, but if you name it anything other than George, it will hop away.” She pondered a minute, then said, “I’m going to name him James.” That was not a good idea. She sat him on the ground and immediately he hopped away. Frogs do not like to be called “James.”
Meet George(s) 
and George and George