The Puppy Has Told Us His Name
Carol went down to PetSmart the other day and bought a name tag for our new puppy, because he finally told us his name: Aero.
Not "Arrow." Aero. Because he practically flies into your lap any chance he gets. Because his ears sometimes stick out on each side of his head like the wings of a B-17. (See the photos-particularly the last one-that I presented in my December 10, 2006 entry.) And because-well, because he told us. It's a puppy thing, and anyone who has ever accepted a puppy into his or her home will know precisely what I mean.
There are allusions to Harry Nilsson's charming old Sixties doper fantasy, The Point in that I keep hearing the "Me and My Arrow" song in the back of my head, and seeing Oblio's pointy-nosed mutt tearing around in random patterns. QBit is a very linear dog, even though he was a very hyperactive puppy. Aero has a much more aggressive random number generator, and his hyperactivity is never expended in the same direction for more than a moment.
They both like eating snow, which is good, because there's a lot to go around this year. Qbit is doing a good job of bringing up his adoptive little brother (Aero is actually Dino's child) and is willing to share his rawhide with the little interloper, as shown in the photo above. We've had too much snow to take them out walking much, but for some reason Aero is housebreaking in record time, and for the most part, all is well.