I’ve accrued a list of dog names over the years, but when it comes down to it a dog really names itself. We spent our first evening referring to each other with vague gestures and generic titles: boy, kiddo, baby, etc. But it was clear he needed a name, and nothing on my list fit.
While admiring his big, floppy puppy paws, I noticed he stands with his toes spread, the fur between them making his feet look webbed.
On three occasions, he purposely knocked his water dish over, turning the kitchen into a giant slip-and-slide.
He doesn’t like being separated from me, even for something as trivial as a shower, so he jumped in with me.
So I’ve taken to calling him Dagon, after the ancient Semitic fish god, re-popularized in the short story by H.P. Lovecraft. It seems appropriate.