she splays me open

This morning Younger and I were talking about my friend Kell's adorable new dog.  We were discussing the naming process.  Younger agreed that the name I suggested fit the new dog but she said, "I suggested Abu anyway.  From Aladdin?  I'm obsessed with that name for an animal.  I have to make it happen."  Then she looked out the car window, saw a man walking his dog and mock yelled, "Hey mister . . . name your dog Abu?"

I chuckled.

My dog, Hope, was in the car with us.  Younger longingly suggested I rename her Abu.  I declined.  She harumphf'd, crossed her arms across her chest and huffed out, "Fine," in the way that only teenagers can actually manage.  (You know . . . using that tone that suggests the world is full of dumbsh*ts and only they have any real understanding.  Which might be true . . . see here . . . but I digress.)  Then she said, "Even Mickalya wouldn't name her new cat Abu.  She named it Thumper.  Nice.  She named her kitten after my dead rabbit.  Can you believe that?"

Abu inside Genie's house

Feeling the need to steer us away from the dead pet rabbit, I said, "Truth is, I'm not sure Hope really cares what we call her.  Right, Refrigerator?"  Hope looked at me and wagged her tail.  (She's not real smart.)  "Huh, Stupid dog?"  Hope gave me a slobbery kiss.  "See?"  I said, "We could probably call her Abu and she'd never notice."

Getting into the swing of it, Younger said, "True.  But we would be better off . . . ," and here her voice trailed off into that sing-song intonation we use for dogs, babies and the very old, " . . . just calling her Mommy's desperate need to be loved."

Thanks kid.

Maybe I'll have Younger's name legally changed to Abu.  It would serve her right.