I Hate Me, Part 276,872
We just got a dog, it really wasn’t my idea but it’s a cute little beast. It’s a Pomeranian that looks like a coyote or a tiny lion cub with a dogs head. Tiny dogs are fine, I mean Mickey Rourke has a dozen or so (three of them have power of attorney) and he’s cool, right? It’s the name that I’m stuck on. I figured tiny dog, big imposing name, I was thinking “Stalin!” (with exclamation point). This was quickly shot down, not even a spirited discussion just an “I married an idiot look” tossed my way. The name that she decided on was “Pickles”. Pickles? Aaaurrgh! But then my brother suggested I could call her “Rickles” (as in Don) and Sean at work said I could call her “Travis Pickles” (ie: Travis Bickle/Taxi Driver). I was beginning to like the name Pickles. Big man, tiny dog named Pickles, good comic possibilities (blog-wise). Then I was hit with, “She’s not a Pickles, she’s a Lucy. We can call her Lulu.” Big guy, tiny dog named Lulu. The embarrassment quotient seems much higher.