Almost two weeks ago, Tony, the kids, and I went for a bit of a drive. The kids didn't know it, but we were going to pick up a puppy. No, no, no, NOT for us, for the farm! Last fall, Mac, the farm dog passed away, and Tony had been debating about going dogless or getting a replacement. Problems with four legged trespassers (namely deer) settled the debate.
We went to a farm about 20 minutes away where there were five adorable little pups. The litter actually had two fathers, so some of them had a bit of daschund mixed in, especially the one that I found the most adorable. However, we settled on a cute cream-colored dog that looked like it had a dark eye patch over each eye. My suggested name of "Bandit" was quickly shot down, as was Tony's suggestion of "Barney."
Then Luke decided the puppy should be named "Samson" -- he was going to grow up big and strong; plus, one of his favorite Easter movies is about a boy who wants to be a soldier, has a little sister, a cousin named Samuel, and a dog named Samson -- the similarities were eerie (haha!).
However, Grandpa and Grandma decided on a different name....Rudy. Years back, there was a previous farm dog named Rudy, and they decided this little guy would have the same name. Oh, it brought tears and foot stomps in our household and difficulty in explaining that "Samson" wasn't our puppy and since he belonged to Grandpa and Grandma, they decided he would be Rudy. To me, even with the explanation of the other Rudy, all I can think of when hearing Rudy is "Guiliani" -- and that makes me shudder (although not as bad as if he'd have been given Grandpa's middle name...Clinton!). Even Tony refers to him only as "the pup," telling me that he is having a hard time bringing himself to call him "Rudy."
But, Luke is understanding more that the puppy is Rudy...although he told me today that he doesn't like Rudy the puppy any more. We're working on that now. And he is a bit happier knowing that next time we get a farm dog (unless, God forbid!, Rudy meet an early demise), he will get to name him since we'll most likely be living at the farm then (may Rudy live a long and happy life!)...and he can name the next dog Samson.
I, of course, shot down Luke when he hopefully brought up, "Mama, there is a puppy at the farm, but we do not have a puppy at our house. We can get a puppy to live at our house! They said we can come back and get more puppies!" "Who will take care of him" "we will!" "Who will feed him, and what will you feed him?" (parents, never ask your child what they will feed a dog just after you told them dogs like to eat bones!)
Okay, we're not getting our own dog here at our house, and we are adjusting to Rudy's name...but he's still a cute little guy...and hopefully will live up to his predecessor's name and reputation...and Tony's expectations of keeping out the deer! Once he's bigger than the snow piles, that is....