Possumblog

Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.


Wednesday, May 15, 2002

A Rose By Any Other Name
Greg Hlatky demystifies pedigree naming (quite a bit different from the Australian Naming Rules Convention). It was interesting, but never having had a papered pooch, the thing that interested me most was the last part--
Regardless of their name, one thing's for sure: you'll get them mixed up. I'm one of six children, so I'm familiar with the phenomenon. It evokes a peculiar nostalgia when my lovely bride calls out to some miscreant, "Silver, Possum, Satin, hey you, dog!" But whatever they're called or whether they're top-winning specials, retired show dogs, or just companions, we love them all the same.
My sister and I used to unmercifully tease my mother for mixing us up and calling me Trerry and her Terr-esa. I'm paying for my mistakes now, in that I find myself going through the whole list to get to the one I want--"Ash-Jon-RebCATHERINE, put the knife DOWN!"


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