Britta

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There’s a new puppy at my parents’ house.  Our dog, Ruby, is four years old, and has been showing signs of wanting a friend, read: practically fainting with delight whenever a neighbor’s dog wanders into our yard.  Plus, we all like the idea of two dogs keeping each other company when we’re not home.
My parents went to pick out the puppy on Saturday, after a local German shepherd breeder called to say that the puppies born in the spring were old enough to leave their mother.  We’re a German shepherd family: my dad’s first married Valentine’s Day gift to my mom was a German shepherd puppy, and we’ve had them ever since.
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She was nameless for about a day and a half after we brought her home.  My mom, sister, and I all liked the name Scout (as in To Kill a Mockingbird.  Guess whose idea?), but dad wasn’t convinced. Dad liked the names Thunderbolt, Blackie, and Rusty (jokingly?  It’s hard to tell),  but we obviously weren’t convinced.
Wouldn’t you know that once the pup was actually in front of us, we decided that none of our proposed names fit her, and went back to the drawing board.  We wanted a name that is:
Easy to pronounce (or shout late at night when the pup is making a beeline for the swamp)
Unique
Spunky
Easy to morph into obnoxiously cutesy nicknames
Doesn’t end in an -ie /-y sound (between Holly, Amy, and Ruby, we’re covered)
Finally, I suggested Britta.  I went to school with a few Brittas, and had always thought it was a pretty name.  When I texted the suggestion to my dad, HE ACTUALLY TEXTED BACK TO SAY HE LIKED IT.  WHICH IS THE FIRST TIME HE’S EVERY TEXTED ANYONE.  Sorry.  Had to shout that.
We were all still wavering between names when dad, without thinking, called the puppy Britta.  Then Amy, also accidentally, did the same.  It just fit her.  So Britta it is.
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The Brittmeister (see “cutesy nicknames” above) and I have only met via FaceTime, and I’m trying desperately to resist the urge to buy a plane ticket just to hold the girl.  I’ll see her over the holidays, but by then she’ll probably, regrettably, have stopped resembling the Snuggle bear.
In the meantime, I suspect my extensive cooing over every Brit pic is unnerving my housemates.  Sorry, guys.  I’ll buy you something really, really nice for Christmas.

 

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