She

In lieu of bringing a baby into this world at the moment, we’ve opted for that little thing you see there. Yes HER. (And that’s me. Ignore the rolls. There’s one of my face as I’m squishing back to avoid the camera that makes me look like Jabba the Hut and I am SO NOT SHOWING THAT, even though she looks perfect in it)

Could she be any cuter? Because the answer is yes, she could be cuter. Like when she rolled over belly-up in my lap and crossed her paws, sighing heavily and falling asleep. That was the moment we said we’d take her. She comes home in two weeks.

She has no name. Well, she had a name. A very nice name. One that we loved. And then we learned that in some parts of the country – well, apparently ALL PARTS – it is a slang term for vagina.

I almost named my dog Vagina. I might as well named her Hootchie.

Her name was Cousy. After Bob Cousy, the legendary Celtics player. Pronounced coo-zie, to be exact. Cooze, for short. If you prefer an alternate definition, we were about to name her “a dirty slut who probably has some diseases.” Wonderful! And what child doesn’t want to be named Dirty Slut?

Thankfully, my friend Laurene and the lovely T-Diddy informed me of my horrificly ignorant error. It would have been embarrassing at Dog Beach when I hollered out her fetid name. I HAD NEVER HEARD THIS BEFORE. Forgive me, as I am apparently sheltered and naive. My first job was on a dairy farm, you know. Give me a break.

But seriously? I’m a little scared that I’m going to screw up this dog. I will not pretend that this isn’t Trainer Baby 2.0, and is now the time to admit that I’ve never had a dog? I am getting a TEN WEEK OLD PUPPY, and already, before she even arrives, I am dooming her to a life of humiliation.

I might as well have named her Mulva. Or, as the brilliant Yesrie said, Pudenda.

Oh, and Cappy says it’s not too late to change our minds on the drooling, slobbering beast.

*The Sundays!

11 comments January 24th, 2006