Bob being picked.
BOB is not my dog, but I’m determined to name him. We had to venture deep into Creepsville country to get the hound, and he guffed eight times on my lap on the journey home. I’m owed this. I need to act fast, before Zo’s kids try and name him.
I reckon Bob looks like a Bob, and I say so. “He can be ‘Robert’ when he misbehaves,” I point out. I can tell Zo’s coming around, because I keep dropping Bob’s name into conversation all the way home until she starts doing it too. We’re in!
I was confused by Bob’s teats, but apparently boys have them too. Look – there’s his doodle on the left.
You say it with a little pause, Blackadder style: “…Bob.”
Keeper? Yes. I would like to name someone’s firstborn next.
Hey man, now you're really living 
“Look – there’s his doodle on the left.” Best caption ever!