Family Portrait

This is my brother Wicket, a three year old Min-Pin & Cairn Terrier mix. Mom found him in a box on the street corner, ala Oliver (the cartoon not the live action movie).

The pretty Blue Russian is of course my dance partner (sometimes sparring partner) Rei. Aunt Kristy-bell calls her a hussy, though I'm not really sure what that means. She belongs to the guy at the top of our stairs (he's always in his room so I don't know what he looks like, though I do like the taste of his shoes).

This P-I-M-P is Zach. DO NOT mess with him. He's a creepy crawly assassin who jumps out of dark corners and off high places. Once when I was an adventurous young pup (as opposed to the mature 9 mo I am now) I did my classic butt-in-the-air let's play move. Mom said it was fortunate Zach didn't use his claws 'cause he smacked me across the face and made me fall over.



This is Dopey. He's my best friend in the whole world, even though he tries to steal my food. It's sad really especially since I'm bigger than he is.

Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers Redux

I'm kind of embarrassed Mom caught us. I didn't want her to know I was learning how to dance until I'd mastered the Foxtrot and the waltz. As you can see, Rei and I are in the downstairs bathroom practicing placement of paws.

Wicket, my "big" brother (though you couldn't tell it since we're the same size), is too busy drinking water to keep watch like he was supposed to.

He's the reason we had no warning Mom was sneaking up to take this pic!

The Name Game; Or, How the Literary Canon of Dead White Dudes Influenced My Name

The great Bard once posed the question, "what's in a name?"

Maybe this is a heady topic for a 9 mo old French bully to contemplate, but lately I've been thinking a lot about it. My mom hates her own name so she took a lot of time thinking of mine (read: 2 days). A name is what everyone who's never met you judges you by (think of the weirdest moniker you can think of - yes I'm talking about you Pilot Inspektor - and what was your reaction?) so it's important your parents choose the right one!

My name is Hugo Comma Victor. Apparently my mom is a huge lit buff and she thought "Hugo" was a good rugged name that spoke to my heritage and also to my strong personality. I think I was named that in a previous life because the first time she called me that, I immediately perked my ears and tilted my head. Apparently she took that as a sign and from that point on everyone referred to me as the same (I liked it better than "fatty," "slug," and "piggy-pig").

Now you must be wondering how I got the "Comma Victor" part.

Well, one day I was racing around the family room with my pal Dopey and ran into the bookshelf. My mom really likes to read and her shelves are overflowing so a few books fell down. I just couldn't help sampling a few pages - with my mouth. Mom came around the corner and found me there literally red-pawed. (Or maybe red mouthed?)

I thought she would yell, but instead she just had a disappointed look on her face and then she began laughing. Apparently I was chewing - er reading - Lace Misers by a guy with a similar name to mine. She thought it would be funny to call me Hugo Comma Victor and it kinda stuck.

Cool name, huh?