The case of the oddly named dog

While Molly and I were out walking in the park this afternoon, we met a gentleman and his dog. They had stopped for a rest before continuing on down the road.  From what the gentleman said, they had been driving for about six hours straight.

You need to picture this – the gentleman was dressed in full conservative business outfit including tie and pinstriped suit.  I’m wearing jogging shorts and a ratty old golf shirt. His dog is a miniature dachshund and stands maybe 8 inches tall.  The dog has been groomed to within an inch of it’s life and is a spitting image of its master.  The dog is so small he can walk under Molly as she stands beside the path as the gentleman and myself visit.  One heck of an incongruous sight to see all of us standing there talking and sniffing. (The dogs, not us!) I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing when the gentleman walks off and calls his dog.
So what does this extremely well dressed, conservative, long travelling business man name his diminuative dog?
Ready to give up?  The answer is in the first comment.

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