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"Well, I figured you could decide."
She keeps walking, reaching the end of the row, bending eye level with the enclosure. A golden retriever puppy shaking toward the back of the cage.
"Hi," she whispers, keeping her voice low and soothing. "Come here, boy."
The dog doesn't budge. Ellie's eyes turn to me for help. The volunteer informs me it's okay to open the kennel.
Ellie stands about a foot away from the door, cooing at the dog. Finally, Ellie pats both of her knees, clicking her tongue, and the dog comes racing to her.
Ellie pets it, giggling. "What's his name?" She asks the shelter volunteer.
"This one doesn't have a name. He just got here last week."
"This is him, dad. This is our new dog."
I laugh as Ellie tries to pick him up. He's a puppy, but he's still pretty big. We sign the paperwork and load the dog into my truck.
Ellie is petting him from her car seat, "So what do we name him?"
"What do you want to name him?"
"I don't know how to decide."
"Well, we get call signs when we fly our planes, kind of like nicknames. Most of the time, it's like a shorter version of our actual name or something that reminds them of you."
"This dog is yellow, so we'd call him yellow?"
"Sort of, I guess yeah. Or you could name him something you like."
"Can I think about it for a minute?"
"Sure," I laugh, pulling into the pet supply store.
"Where are we?"
"He's going to need food and a collar."
"Oh," she laughs, "duh."
We get home, and the dog goes crazy, sniffing the entire house. I open the back door to let him into the backyard, hoping he doesn't piss in the house. Ellie and I sit on the back porch tossing him a tennis ball for at least an hour. He doesn't tire. He just keeps running.
"He likes to run," she laughs, patting his head.
"He's fast, too," I agree.
"I know what we can name him!"
"Okay, what?" I ask.
"You said that pilots get their call sign from their personality or something, so I think we should name him Jet because he's so fast."
I smile, "I think that is the perfect name."
I shake my head, grinning. My six-year-old daughter just call signed her dog. Dojo and Cuddy will get a kick out of that on Monday.
We go inside, and Ellie and Jet cuddle up together on the couch, watching a movie while I cook dinner. I'm thankful Ellie isn't too picky about food. The only thing I've made that she didn't care for was fish. Some people just don't like seafood, so I can live with it.
We both eat dinner. She uses a motherly voice to tell Jet to sit while she eats. Explaining to him good manners, not that he can understand anything she says, but that doesn't stop her from teaching him.
