As the holidays began to approach, my mom began to ask if I was going to come to visit for Christmas. Well, I already had planned my recent trip to Las Vegas, so a trip to Florida in December seemed like a bit much to pull off, so I was noncommittal but did like the idea of spending Christmas with the folks.
During a call to mom a couple of weeks later, she mentioned that my sisters were thinking of going to Florida for Christmas and it sure would be nice if everybody could come. Well, my sister, Suzanne lives in Southern California and sister Leigh Ann lives in Alabama, so if they were going to go, then it would be nice to see them and it has been a long time since we all spent Christmas together.
On the next phone call, I was told that both my sisters were definitely going to Florida for Christmas and were making plane reservations or other travel arrangements right away. Well, if my sisters were going to find a way to go to Florida and since I certainly did not want to be the selfish, ungrateful sibling who could not make the trip, I committed to going to Florida for the holidays. All of us in the same house at Christmas would be great fun!
All was fine and dandy, and everybody was happy until .... my sisters and I began to call each other to talk about the trip. Each phone call between us seemed to go the same way. "I am so glad we are all going to be together for Christmas! I really can't afford to go to Florida right now but when I heard that everybody else was going, I did not want to miss out on the fun or be the bad child who would not go." Well, we may all be morons but it did not take long to figure out what had happened. We had been scammed, played off each other by our very own parents to get us all to go to Florida for the holidays. Each of us had received the same phone call informing us that the other two children were coming and how it sure would be nice if we all came. I am not sure who the mastermind of this plan was, but I'm putting my money on dear old Dad, it seems to fit with his style. I don't know who was the first of us to figure out what was going on but will credit it to Leigh Ann. She said that when she confronted Pop with the accusation he did not deny it and let out an evil little laugh.
So the whole family will be together for the holiday's, but some form of retaliation must be done for the blatant manipulation from those nice people I call my parents. We are still working on a plan but so far the best we have come up with is to go and eat all their food and leave the house messy when we go.
I had heard the name as given to a dog a some point in my life and thought it sounded like the perfect name for a dog. If you have ever watched a dog in the kitchen or around the dinner table, most dogs are watching the floor with great concentration for anything that falls. Since Hoover is the brand name of a vacuum cleaner, and just mentioned floor cleaning skills of dogs, what better name for a happy dog? So this would be the short version of why I named my dog Hoover, but you know that's not the whole story. Any dog cool enough to get a web site named after him has to have a better "How did he get his name" story than that, right?
Way back in the years before we meet Hoover, I had mentioned to my wife once that when we lived in a place where it was reasonable to have a dog, that I wanted to get a really great dog and that I wanted to call him Hoover, for the above mentioned reasons. She agreed that it would be nice to have a dog when we had a yard and thought the name was cute. A few years later we moved into a nice townhouse in Alabama where I had accepted a job with a local television station. One of the things I did at the station was to set up a program with the local animal shelter to feature a couple of animals each week in commercials to encourage people to adopt pets from the shelter. Every week a nice lady from the shelter would come by with dogs and cats to be used in the commercials. One week as we were watching the production team try to get the puppies to sit still long enough to take a picture, this nice lady told me that they had just received a litter of Lab/Rott mixed pups. That combination struck me as a wonderful mix and that it would make a good looking dog with many nice qualities. So I called the wife and asked her to meet me at the animal shelter to take a look at the puppies.
When we arrived we were led to a pen that was full with no less than twenty puppies of various breeds. The only way to examine the ones we came to look at was to get in the pen with them. So I knelt on the floor surrounded by puppies all playing and running about while I tried to get a good look at the new batch. From the moment I touched the floor this one little dog was all over me, climbing up on my legs to get at my face, jumping, bouncing, barking and using every cute puppy move in the book to get me to notice him. He was not one of the Lab/Rott mix that I had come to see so I tried to ignore him, but this little guy with the short legs was not giving up. I could not get a good look at any of the other pups with this puppy climbing in my lap and doing everything he could to get as close as possible. He was a Labrador/Basset mix and he had decided he was going home with me. Unable to resist his charms, the wife and I decided he was right. We went back to the front desk to fill out the adoption forms and take home our new friend. While filling out the forms the nice lady from the shelter asked what we were going to name him. Now that long past conversation with the wife on this subject had all but been forgotten by me, but without a second of hesitation, my wife answered "Hoover, we are going to name him Hoover".
So there you go, now you know about the day Hoover adopted me, how he got his name and you probably have a good idea of why I married my wife.
