Not sure why these new humans changed my name to Boomer, but I think I like it.
Could be the sonic snap I leave behind after darting out to catch boy human’s whirling disc. Or the deep sound of my voice echoing through the moonlit valley to keep the nearby enemies from encircling our new house home. Or the smack of my chops after after girl human drops all those meat pebbles into my Boomer bowl and I whip my head back up not five seconds later to see if there’s more. (There’s not usually, but that’s all right, I know where they keep ’em.) Or maybe it’s just my giant dumps?
Regardless of the reason, the name’s growing on me. Muuuch better than Pringles. (Chris Principe)