After a couple days of brainstorming names and another couple days of debating them, the top two contenders were Graham and Nathan. And then I suggested Glen. Oh. Glen. We were all instantly sold, except Foster, who is still calling him Nathan. He’ll come around. Or he won’t and the poor dog will never really know what his name is.
Glen seems to be settling in well and is having a ball with Mia, who also seems happy to have someone to do dog-type things with (butt-sniffing, running in circles, pleading to stay indoors) and doesn’t smack her on the head for no reason, like Murray the bully cat. For his part, Murray seems pleased to sit back whenever Mia and Glen are horsing around and watch the show. It’s a good deal all around. Meanwhile, the sole surviving fish is thinking, uh, hello, still swimming all alone over here.
To give the young love
birdsdogs a special place of their own, I bought a nice, plush cat bed yesterday and look: