What's In A Name? By Ziggy Big door's open. Think I'll go on in. Here's the kitchen. I can tell by the lingering scents that tasty food is made here. This sure looks like a comfortable couch. I think I'll stay awhile. I'm sure they won't mind. They return. They wonder where I came from. The one called Chet offers me food. He tries to get me to leave my comfortable resting spot. Is he crazy? I like him, anyway. That loud sound makes quite a racket and they rush out to their big red vehicles. After they're gone, the station becomes quiet and I can catch up on some sleep. Is that noise a dinner bell of some sort? Can't be, they eat here in the kitchen. Share their food with me. As it should be. They decide I can stay, but first I need a name. That would be very nice. Yes, anything is better than being called `Dog.' They decide on `Henry.' I must admit, it fits me like a glove. The lanky one objects, then finally relents. "But I don't want to catch anybody callin' him `Hank!'" Hey, what's in a name? I just don't want to hear anybody callin' *him* Henry! |