Tuesday, March 27, 2012

My Name is Juchereau de Saint Denys, apparently.

Elle's depressed. Is it because she's traveling tomorrow? That's what Pearl thinks, but something tells me it's about me. I don't know. I think the paternity test came through, and Elle's found out I'm not the father or something. Like, it was a Maury-Povich-style-Jerry-Springer-surprise test and some other dude's the father. I know, I was hoping to see a "fight," too. You know, when on Jerry they have this guy standing there on stage in the black shirt and the ponytail to, you know like, pretending he's keeping the actors, er, people apart. Well, I was gonna be the guy on the right. I had it all planned out that some other guy was gonna find out he's the father and not me.

Wait, Pearl's reminding me that it wasn't my paternity test. It was a test to determine my parents. Close enough. Parents and paternity are kinda similar.

Anyway, Elle's crying. I know it's me. It has to be. I'm... a dog. I know. The results were conclusive. I'm canine. I know she was hoping for small child. Maybe a cute two year-old or something. Like this guy...
I mean, honestly. He can't possibly really be this cute in person.
Or maybe this guy...

How can I compete with this? Really? It's sad. I know. But, I can't do this. Sure, I can jump over things, even through hoops if you wanted, and play ball, but maybe he can do those things too. He can probably bark if he wanted to, and it'd be cute. Sigh.

Well, Pearl's handed me the results. Says she hacked into Elle's email to get'em. Pearl is nothing if not one devious b@#$*. Don't let her know I said that, though. She might think I've got some new found respect for her. She's not really smart enough to find the blog anyway, so certainly I'm safe. That, and she'll never figure out the password. I mean, who would ever think it's "Catahoula." Right? I mean, that's ironclad.

So, the DNA results. Yeah, that's what we're talking about. Well, they say I'm a Catahoula, which is really weird because, like, that's my password to the blog. Strange, I know. Huh?

Anyway, it's Catahoula of the Louisiana clan. My God! Not that clan, Pearl! Geez.
Catahoula, of the blue merle variety.
It's hard argue, I declare, with the pho-to-graphic nature of this argumentation. I mean, sooner er lata, I'm gonna be lookin' to get me some crawdads and gumbo. Yee-haw!

If you would be so kind to pardon me for the briefest of moments...

*cough*  *COUGH*

So, as I was saying, Louisiana Catahoula Leopard Dog, or Catahoula Cur.

Here's the form as provided by the testing company.
The plot does thicken, though, because I'm not 100% Catahoula. Oh, no. I'm only about 25%. I'm also 25% Border Collie, and that's a firmer 25%, for sure. That explains a whole lot. You know, something about typing probably would fall more into the Border Collie range than Catahoula. Nothing against my Southern roots, mind you, just given y'all the benefit of my Scottish brethren.

The resemblance is less canny, but a bit hairier.
So, here's the mix:

What's with the mixed breeds? Well, it's a mix. See for your self:
German Spitz? Um... Seriously? What the hell is that? I look nothing like a big fur ball. It's good to see that Australian Koolie is in the mix. Would someone delete the Pomeranian, please? It's embarrassing, and Pearl's laughing at me.

Well, anyway. It seems that Elle has gotten over the initial shock of my heritage. Either that or she really is leaving town tomorrow, and she's just tired. Sigh. Well, I guess I ought to change my name to something more fitting to my Cajun roots. I think Elle and Abe thought I was Australian and then Catalan when they named me. So, Juchereau de Saint Denys it is.

Blech. It sounds too French.

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