This one is entitled "Guess Who We Decided To Keep!"
(Spoiler: this guy.)
Yes, it's true, our former foster pup is officially a foster fail. From the minute he walked in here he just seemed to be part of the family. It was like he just knew how things went and that was that. Willa loves him, Mayflower ADORES him, the cats seem amused to toy with him, and the kids can't live without him. So, you see, the decision was really made despite Brad and myself.
The only hard part was choosing a name. As you may remember, the Bookers were in a four way tie. I loved the name Argus, while Brad had a visceral reaction and winced every time I said it. Brad opted for Johnny, which offended every creative bone in my body. Harper liked Puppy or Junior, so she went for the hybrid and hyphenated the two. Will, my adorable little wordsmith, was sweet on Cute.
So, after much deliberation, we finally agreed on... KILGORE!
Yes, Kilgore. Kilgore as in Kurt Vonnegut's pseudonym, Kilgore Trout (thus keeping our literary-themed naming streak in tact). Also Kilgore as in "Kill" and "Gore" mashed together to make one super-violent name (which, I think, was the main selling point for both Brad and Harper).
So here they are, our THREE (ohmygoshhowdidthathappen?!?!?!) dogs, cozy as can be. How lucky we are he has found us.
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