The other day, when we were out for a walk, my husband called our 175-pound Newfoundland dog "a pill" because she sat down in the middle of the sidewalk and refused to move.

Sticks and stones might have broken her bones, but seriously?

The dog could NOT have cared less that someone was calling her names. She blinked her amber eyes at my husband as if to say, why move when you can kick back, sit on your hairy old backside and chill on First Avenue for a while?

Dude, what's the rush?

I laughed because OK! It's just funny to watch your husband attempting to reason with Big-Foot-on-a-Leash first thing in the morning.

He urged and tugged and urged some more and tugged some more, which only made the dog more stubborn.

Before long, she was lying on her side, large tongue lolling and legs extended.

Meanwhile, cars slowed down to get a look.

I could practically hear the passengers inside ask why some middle-aged guy in running shorts was engaged in a calf-roping contest on First Avenue.

But here's the real reason I laughed.

It's been a long time since I've heard "pill" used in that way.

Pill was a favorite word of my mother when we were growing up. So-and-so was a pill, she'd say, implying that if she ever heard about her own children being pills, we'd have to answer to her.

What constituted being a pill?

A lot of it had to do with having a sour attitude, which made it slightly different from being a brat. If you were a brat, you were naughty and noisy, aggressive and (it goes without saying) spoiled. You were the kid who had a tantrum at your own birthday party if you didn't get what you wanted and you didn't get to go first.

Pills were quieter, although equally disagreeable. You were the kid who pouted and refused to try something new. And if you did try something new, you had a look of profound distaste on your face, along with the secret hope in your heart that you could ruin the experience for everyone around you.

Pill was a perfectly good word and could be used, in fact, to describe certain public personalities today, particularly in the world of sports.

Terrell Owens comes to mind. Manny Ramirez does, too. Same with Kobe, although (AND I CANNOT BELIEVE I'M GOING TO SAY THIS) I do have a grudging admiration for his level of play.

Anyway.

Pill. In spite of its virtues, it was not picked up and used with any regularity by people of my generation — until the other morning, apparently, by my husband there on First Avenue.

Which leads me to ask the question, why.

Why do some words fall off the Popular Usage Radar?

I'd love it if you'd send me an explanation, as well as examples of previously popular words, along with a definition. If I hear from enough of you, I'll write a column on the subject.

And give you extra credit.

e-mail: acannon@desnews.com