Big Bad Wolf?

Tonight, I joined my stepmother for dinner. Yes, yes, I can just hear it now: "On a Tuesday? Doesn't she live in Beaufort? Why not wait?" Why not wait. Well, let me suggest: Why wait? Time is short on this planet, and the older we get, the shorter the time we have left to be with each other and enjoy each other's laughter.
So, after talking this past weekend on the phone, I decided we really needed to see each other. Many reasons I had, too, for pushing the time up from that first weekend in October. I had already obtained her birthday present and wanted her to open her gift early. I thought she could stand a little cheering up. I wanted to let her KNOW I think she's special. And, since Daddy is no longer on this planet, I wanted her to have something to cuddle up with at night, too, 'cause big ol' beds weren't intended for solo sleeping, ya know?
We met up at the Wendy's near the traffic circle on the way to Bluffton. Only about 30 minutes for both of us, so not bad. This Wendy's is HUGE: spacious, bright, great service. I deliberately left the present in the car, to wait until after dinner. Sure enough, after we ate, she wanted to take a little walk, so we went to my car so I could put my dinner container in the trunk... and I gave her the Big Bad Wolf. Mind you, that's just what I've been calling him, and I've thought that from the moment I saw him. I even have that song from Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, done in the 1960's, still in my head, talking about Little Red Riding Hood and howling. And you know what? Without me even mentioning it, SHE thought of that song, too, and told me the story of the field trip to the beach that her high school class took in 1966, with the teacher cranking up the radio and them all singing along to that song. I told her I remembered Daddy singing and hamming it up to that song and that I thought of him, endearingly mind you, as the Big Bad Wolf. We talked about that a bit more as we walked, gradually changing to other topics, as the color of the sky deepened and night fell.
When we returned to Wendy's, I walked with her to her car and she took the wolf out to look at him and talk some more. I told her he was definitely a good wolf, as part of his cost went to help endangered animals. She was holding him and looking at his face when she proclaimed him to not be a wolf, but a sheep in wolf's clothing! Imagine that!!! And you know what? She was absolutely right. Those were NOT the ever-hungry eyes of a wolf, but the soft, deep brown of ovine eyes. That creamy muzzle protruding from that beautiful gray fur was far too sweet to be that of a carnivore. Judge for yourself.
Now, the question is: what to name him? There's a book, published in 2007, with several all-puns-intended suggestions, but I don't know that they'll be quite right. RAMbunctious? RAMshackle? Heyewe? Not my choice about the name, though: he doesn't belong to me. I'll let you know the name when I do... maybe!