Well you can call me Ray...

Or you can call me Jay...

This Just In, on the Buddy front:
Mal's been taking the pooch out with him (did I mention, he loooves the car, perched himself in the back window of my gray Corsica -- very unsafe, yes I know, but it was hot, he seemed to like it up there, and I do understand the difference between caring for a child and an animal, so don't write me about fashionable doggy seat-belts on the market please...)

So on a recent visit to his Dad's house, Buddy seems to have befriended Norm.

As I mentioned, and learned later, this is a very calm and affectionate breed. More poodle than Yorkie it seems, and a decent enough size. Small enough to qualify as a lap dog, but not all that small really.

Norm's doing well in his mid-90s... hanging in there, though if asked how he feels, I'm sure he'd fall back on his favorite phrase: "Horse shit!" (he jokes, not a complainer that one. Said -- back when he was on the Coumadin, and any slight scrape would end up in bleeding hands or arms -- "I can't feel that really. Numb." Tough like that, as the original parts just kind of wind down ...)

Anyway, Norm seems to think this dog is a "Herman".
Took to calling Buddy that, Mal tells me, as he petted him on his lap.

We're not sure if in childhood, he had a dog named Herman in his life or what. But for Norm, Herman it is.

Made me smile here.