When I was camp-hosting at a nearby reservoir this past summer, I ran into a fellow workkamper as I walked my dog Bandit.
Bandit began smelling her pant leg and she leaned down to pet him. "Oooh," she said, "do you smell my lily?"
My jaw dropped and Chris looked up and smiled. Without guile she said matter-of-factly, "My dog's name is Lily."