I’ve never had children, but, I imagine that walking into Molly’s side yard is a lot like any parent walking into their teenager’s room; holes dug everywhere, dirt all over the place, and strewn with shredded pieces of plants, paper, and old toys.

Today Molly asked me, “Daddy, why do you call me ‘Molly’?”

“I can’t really say. Don’t you like that name?”

“Is ‘Molly’ a good name?” She countered.

“Sure. Yes. I think ‘Molly’ is a good name.”

“It’s just that, at the dog park there’s Puffin, and Lola, and Parker, Yukon, Mr. D, and two Bens. There’s even a ‘Holly’. But there are no other Molly’s." She looked thoughtful, "At the shelter they called me ‘Maya’, and my best friend was Flower. Are those good names?”

“Sure. Those are fine names. But I don’t really see you as ‘Maya’.”

“I don’t seem ‘Maya’?”

“When I met you, I thought you looked like ‘Molly’, and I still do. Don’t you think the name ‘Molly’ suits you?”

“It suits me. I just wanted to make sure it was a good name.”

“It’s the perfect name for you.”

This morning while taking Molly for a walk, I asked her why it is that after she pees, she often turns around and sniffs it.

She told me she has to smell-check her posts.

 

Molly and I finished watching the Inauguration.

I said to her, "The world is a better place now."

She just smiled and closed her eyes.