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to tell my wife that we have changed his name. She still thinks it’s Rufus. She has tried to make friends with him. She will come out and call him, but he won’t come. Then she will turn and say, ‘Honey, will you call the dog.’ I will yell, ‘Dang it, Rufus, get over here,’ and he immediately comes. So she still thinks his name is Rufus, not realizing the first part of that is really his name.” As our conversation was ending, Bart said he needed to head out to work on a pivot. He slapped the side of his pickup. “Dang It, let’s go boy.” The golden retriever leaped into the back, and ran up to the front and stuck his head over the side. His tail was wagging as he anticipated a fun ride. I, too, headed on my way, but I had one more stop before I headed home. I pulled into another farm yard, and the farmer came over to greet me. As we talked, I looked over and saw a young black lab chewing on a shoe. “You got a new dog?” I asked. “Yeah,” the farmer said. “Had ‘im for a few months now.” 11