Claire F ~ "My Decision"

As I was sitting in my yard with my family’s new three month old puppy in my lap, I was on a mission. This Bernese Mountain Dog was going to be my companion, so I had to decide what his name was going to be. That was my task. It might not seem very hard, but this was one of those tasks that was unusually hard.
The dog was getting older, and he had just got him from the breeder, so he obviously had to have a name. The difficulty of this decision gave frustration a chance to burn through me. There were so many names out there. Which one would fit? I knew it had to be a unique name, and of course a male one to. It also had to match his looks. What name would match this big, black, white chested figure? I asked myself. His tail looked like it had been dipped in white paint,a cute little white stripe ran down his forehead, and his big, bushy, brown eyebrows lined his eyes.
Underneath this simple task, was really a complex, frustrating one. My dad really wanted the dog’s name to be Yogi, but I disagreed, that name was just too bizarre. I was thinking that George might work as a name because it wasn’t too quirky. With that name in my head, I stood up and stepped back, ready to give it a try. “George, come here,” I called. He looked up, but it wasn’t enough. The dog knew it was boring, and I agreed with him. George was too common of a name. For a dog it wasn’t special or unique. After I gave up on George, I ambled inside and towards the warm, welcoming kitchen only to find my mom. She was a petite woman, and on her head she carried thick, short, black hair. Sewn through her body were tiny, dark freckles. “Hey Mom?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“What do you think our dog’s name should be?” I asked geared up for a great answer.
“I don’t know.” This answer gave me a desolate look. “Maybe it could be Charlie.”
I had to disagree, “That’s too much of a human name. I’ll go ask dad.” True to my word, I sauntered out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the family room. “Dad, do you know what our dog’s name should be?” I asked, “Other than Yogi, George, and Charlie.”
“What’s wrong with Yogi?”
“Well, it’s a bit weird,” I admitted, “and a bit random, too.”
“Are you kidding?” my dad declared, “Yogi is the best name ever! My favorite T.V. show character’s name is Yogi Bear. He’s famous!”
How could I forget? The memory of watching Yogi Bear and his sidekick BooBoo on T.V. suddenly flooded into my mind. I was flipping through the channels thinking there was nothing good on when I heard a very queer voice. “Hey, hey BooBoo,” said the deep accent. When I looked at the screen I saw that the source of the sound was a unusual looking black bear. Right next to him was a smaller black bear with a funky red baseball cap on. The laughter that bubbled up from my throat was a sign that this was an awesome show. I watched it until the end. They finally had enough courage to travel through the mysterious cave. The show was filled with a whole bunch of that little kid humor. And that was just what the dog was filled with.
I decided to share this bit of information with my dad, “I do know who Yogi is. I’ve seen him on T.V. before. That name matches our dog perfectly. Yogi isn’t common or human-like. It’s unique!” I felt like dancing around in circles, I was so thrilled. “See ya Dad,” I yelled as I bolted outside. Once I saw the adorable little puppy, I called out, “Yogi, come here!” He popped up and started charging towards me. I knew that Yogi was the name. “Good boy, Yogi, good boy!”


Yogi
Yogi
couldn’t be better
Yogi
a name like no other
Yogi
don’t steal it
Yogi
it’s perfect