It's hard to go wrong with "Grover" (our first dog's name).  I mean, the muppet it harkens back to is fun loving, honest, and amazing at nailing simple opposites (nearrrrrrrrr.  farrrrrrrrrrrrr).  And at worst, people just think of Grover Cleveland, who no one really knows anything about.

For our second pup's name, we delved a little further into the preverbal rabbit hole.  So far, in fact, that we arrived at yet another puppet: Falkor, from The Neverending Story (we altered the spelling a bit to Falcor).  

I'm not entirely sure why picking a flying dog-like dragon didn't set off any of the aforementioned warning sirens.  Probably cause Falkor is so darn cute and mellow that you don't even think of the flying as lack of restraint.  And so, inevitably we got a mini-blue pit who can sky when he jumps.  Hops his brother with ease.  he can even land himself on our slick kitchen table if it means a better view out the window.   And our Falcor knows very little restraint.  Flying across the neighbors' yards like a blueish-grey blur of kinetic energy.  He is . . . unbounded.

Thankfully, we left ourselves an insurance policy in the event that this name backfired and did, in fact, create a (adorable, puppy-faced, munch muffin) more monsterable version of luck dragon.  And we did it by pranking ourselves.  

Now, when Falcor, semi-predictably, at 2 am in the morning, bolts full speed to the backyard in order to explore (even though i was just opening the door for him to take a quick pee), i am left with three options.   Call him.  Shake a bag of treats.   Go and retrieve him in my t-shirt despite the frost of the early morning.  I go through my options in that order.   I scream, "Falllllllllcorrrrrrrrr.  Falllllllcoooorrrrrrrr."  

And then.  I laugh my ass off at myself.  Pranked again.  I am transformed into Atreyu, waiting for my mount to swoop down from the clouds.  I am in the movie, shouting the line.  I find this the most hilarious consequence of our name choice.  Usually, the laughter is large enough to motivate me on to the treat-bag shaking and eventually puppy reconnaissance that at some point becomes inevitable.  Thankfully, the frost doesn't bite quite as hard with a smile on your face.