In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Dog Named Bob.”
Two Saturday mornings ago I was sitting down eating breakfast, at a local restaurant, with my cousin Larry and his wife Rose. My plate had a picture of a bluejay in its design. It was so enchanting I quite regretted having to pour so much syrup over the fine illustration. I knew there was no way the ink could run, but it would still spoil the pristine appearance of it all. It was quite a lovely meal other than that one unfortunate problem. When we eventually went back to their house, on my way up the front stoop, I couldn’t help noticing that a neighbor of theirs was hanging around their mailbox with his dog, who, he pointed out, was named Bob.
“Bob?!”, I spontaneously blurted out. “What in the hell kind of name is that for a dog?”
“Isn’t it the most interesting name?” he replied.
“Dude, surely you jest.”
“I quite think it fits him so well.”
Our confrontation went on for several minutes until I finally gave up on this seemingly pointless episode. I was especially stunned when he explained that Bob is an avid Dylan fan.