Me on a run with Scruffy: "Come here Crusty. I mean Snappy. Snuffy. Scruffy."
I just can't seem to master the name! This situation is not helped by the fact that I don't like the name, which was bestowed upon him by his first (and obviously far less inventive) owners. To complicate, Merrick has trouble pronouncing Scruffy so he's reverted to the smoother Crusty.
Styrker initially suggested Caspian as a name. I'm all over that, but then Stryker remembered that Grandma Mary disapproves of three syllable dog names. My mother has a thick playbook and you better know those rules.
The dog answers to Scruffy. But I can't be helped: "Here Snuffy! I mean Caspian. Crusty. Scruf."
Merrick and I introduce Scruffy-Crusty-Caspian to our neighbor Chip, a good guy who didn't know he was actually God until Merrick came along and told him. Chip works on trains, rides them all day long.
Chip thinks Scruffy is a funny name, but apt.
Me: "Merrick calls him Crusty."
Chip: (big laugh) "Why not just call him Icky?"
Merrick, ever helpful to God: "How about Poop?"