Jack Ashburn pans his gaze over his closed left fist, past his white knuckles, glancing slowly down the taught purple nylon leash which terminates at a black, white and brown four-month old puppy that is, by all accounts, a sizable dog already. But, for all the strength he is exerting on the leash, he cannot muster enough force to call the dog by name.
"Nephi" was not his first choice. Neither was it his second, third, or fourth. His wife Reta, however, insisted that the children could name the dog as they wished to. He objected that if they had let the kids name their third child, her na…
