UPDATE: Christopher Hitchens, my all-time favorite writer and lion-hearted inspiration, died about three hours after I brought young [undecided] home. Besides my internal monologue, Wayne was the first to suggest that he be named "Hitch" in his honor.
So, everybody, meet Hitch.
A few facts about [undecided]:
Young [undecided] is a rescue pet. Strangely for a rescue, he's a purebred dachsund--I've got papers and everything. He's two years old and was abandoned when his old owners claimed that he got territorial with their other new puppy. He's so incredibly timid and gentle and clearly terrified of everything (the list so far: shopping bags, stoplights, car windows, people, dogs, the Twilight books, John Mayer) that there's no possible way that there isn't more to the story. He's laying here on my lap as I type this, in fact, having eaten a delicious meal of "New York Strip-flavored liver product" (it came highly recommended), staring at the door and looking up at with me appropriately puppy dog eyes.
But here's the deal: [undecided] needs to be named. My three suggestions, and the men who inspired them:
Orson (for Orson Welles)
Hank (for Hank Dolworth of Terriers)
Custer (for Jesse Custer of Preacher)
Those are the choices. Leave a comment with your choice below. In a day or two, I'll ignore them all and pick the name I like the most.
Your vote counts! Sorta!