I had the little black puppy for about 10 days and still hadn’t given her a name. She was the sweetest, silliest puppy and during the day when I was at work, she was confined to a very large kitchen. She came into my house at 10 weeks and house-trained. I would come home from work at lunch time, and had hired someone to check in once or twice a day to take her for a walk or a romp in the back yard. Such a sweet puppy!
But, I couldn’t find the right name for her. As ridiculous as it sounds, all of our family dogs had had names that began with a “C” or “K” sound. Cleo, Kissy, Casey, Kelly … all wonderful dogs. So, in keeping with family tradition, I decided to try and find the right name with the right sound. It took a while.
On a lovely early September Friday evening, I got home from work, took the pup out to the back yard, and joined her with my glass of white wine, a book, and some cigarettes. The little roly poly pup was running around like a nutcase in a very strange manner that someone later told me was called “the labrador butt-tuck.” She would tuck her butt up under her, hunch her back and run around the yard like an idiot! Well, after her initial burst of energy, she collapsed in the grass and started to eat some clover growing in the grass. I looked over at her and said, “Hey, don’t eat that clover.” She came over to me, looked up at me and promptly threw up all over my feet!
A dog’s name is chosen! Clover!