Our sweet little puppy, Turk.
His full name, we have decided, shall be "Pope Benedict Turk". His breed (Vizsla) is Hungarian, so we did what any technologically-enslaved couple would do and googled "Hungarian dog names." Benedict was chosen because it means "blessed," but mostly due to the ease with which we could pronounce it. (Google Hungarian dog names and tell me how many you can trudge through).
That being said (and as with most loved things in the Baker household) Turk has found himself a few nicknames:
-Tuwkey Tuwk (the children in the neighborhood have claimed this one)
I have learned many things since having Turk, but the most fascinating is the mysterious way in which humans (myself included) seldom talk to dogs in phrases that aren't questions:
"Who's a good boy?!"
"Who's that puppy?!"
"Are you a good boy?!" Followed by "Yessss you are! Yesss you are!"
"Aren't you the cutest thing?! Aren't you? Aren't you?"
"You wanna treat? Can you sit? Sit? Siiiiiiit?"
These questions are almost always high-pitched or in baby voice.
Turk has been a wonderful little man to have around. He's cuddly and smells good and follows me and makes me feel important. He sleeps in his little bed next to ours and wakes us up to tell us he has to go outside to pee/poop.* He eats ice cubes that I spill when I'm filling my water bottle and wags his tail when we sing to him.
*denotes that he has only once pooped inside....on my SHAG rug. Disgust.
Here's to Turk, blogosphere, and the many posts/stories yet to come having him in the Bakery: