“Is my whole name, Fleegle Kennedy?” Fleegle asks me.

“Nope, your whole name is Fleegle.”

“You mean I’m not a Kennedy?”

“You’re a Fleegle.”

“Does that make you a Fleegle too.”

“No, I’m still a Kennedy.”

“Aren’t I adopted and doesn’t that make me a Kennedy?”

“You’re not adopted. You’re your own dog with your own name.”

“But you raised me.”

“I only showed you a few of the ropes.”

“I like tug of war.” Fleegle grows silent, thinking.

“What’s this about?” I ask.

“Most dogs have their family’s name and get two or three names, like Wiggles at the dog park, his full name is Wiggles Crowden-Popplewell. His owners aren’t married so they hyphenate.”

“You want more names? Technically, your name is whatever is on your papers.”

“I have papers?”

“Yes, but I never filled them out and sent them in because we never planned to compete in AKC stuff.”

“Can we fill them out now and I’ll choose my own name?”

“Sure. What are you going to name yourself?”

“Fleegle F. Fleegle.”

“The F. stands for your middle name?”

“Yes. Fleegle.”

“So your name will be…”

“Fleegle Fleegle Fleegle. Well, you know how you always have to my name three times to get my attention.”

 

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