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.

Suspense.

The suspense is killing me! Seriously, when are the results going to come in? It's been almost three weeks, right? I don't know what a week is. I'm a dog, but come on! I can generally figure out, routinely, when Elle and Abe stay home some days and not others. It's kind of a biological clock thing maybe.

Now Pearl's telling me Elle's about to leave town for a few days. You don't think that has anything to do with the test results, do you?

Argh! I am going to die. Put me out of my misery. Please. Someone. Help.

What am I?

Hijacked.

This is Pearl.

I mean, speaking. Yes, I have hijacked this blo0g po0st because I've been hearing Abe and Elle talking. They are saying things like "travel" and "o0ut of to0wn." And, we all kno0w what that means. Yo0u have been visiting this blo0g fo0r a year no0w. Yes, I kno0w this. Who0 do0 yo0u think do0es all of the website analytics stuff? I am smarter than Abe, Elle, and Jack-o0 think. Yes, that is what I call him. He hates it.

O0h. So0, we have never met formally. Yes, Jack-o0 has mentio0ned me, tho0ugh he has been too0 stingy too0 let my dew claws type. He thinks because he needs his space that I sho0uld no0t "co0ntribute." Well, I will shoow him.

See, here. Let us see Jack-o0 do0 this? See! Running next to0 a bike. We have no0t seen yo0u do0 this, Jack-o0!

Me, do0ing so0mething Jack-o0 has no0t.
(Pho0to0 co0urtesy o0f  xAdam Darin)

Where was I? Travel, right. Apparently, Elle will be traveling soo0n FO0R FIVE DAYS, and that do0esn't bo0de well. Jack-o0 is go0ing to0 flip. Like, he is go0ing o0ff the reservatio0n, I think. Yo0u may remember the last time he did that. Can we say doo0r trim?

He is needy, and no0thing against Abe o0r anything, but he is no0t cut o0ut for do0uble do0g duty. If I co0uld rub my paws to0gether menacingly, I wo0uld. The S*&^ is go0ing to0 hit the fan. Elle will regret this trip. Mark my wo0rds.

P.S. What? So0 my paws are large and clumsy. That is why there is an "0" after each o0 I type.

A year in review.

Wow! It's hard to believe that I year has passed by so quickly. That's like 7.6% of my lifetime if I'm lucky to make it 13 years. I know, right? You're thinking, "Morbid!" Well, we all have to plan our lives to make the most of what we've got. I mean, a year ago I had no idea I'd make it this far. That I'd be hiking with my girl Bailey.

Or, maybe that I'd learn how to play ball with Pearl's help.

And how about that first day when Abe and Elle picked me up at the Champaign County Humane Society?  I looked pretty sad.

 To what I look like today.

There has been painting at the Mutt Strut...

And an egg hunt.

Agility training...

And soccer.

 There has been tug of war...

And fun and games.

Loss...

 And triumph.

But, most of all.  There has been a lot of love.

Thanks to everyone who has made the last 12 months memorable for me.

Paternity test.

Boom chica mao, mao. Spring is in the air.

Say what? Yeah, you heard that right. A paternity test. I swear, I have no idea why I'm being DNA scraped when I know that the dog's cajones, so to speak, were rudely extracted one day last year. I may be a dog with a short term memory, but I remember that day clearly. There was like a bright light, then falling asleep. Then, when I woke up and looked "down there" something was distinctly lacking. I don't know. I was a little sore, but, you know, it could have been anything. Maybe the bed I was sleeping on, comfortable as it was at the Champaign County Humane Society, pinched something. A hernia. Yeah, that's what it was. While playing in the pen, I, you know, lifted something heavy. That's what it was. It's not like I lost my manhood or anything. Right?

Pearl's looking at me sideways. Saying something about how hers was much more taxing then my "procedure." Mentioned a hysterectomy or something. I don't know. Girls always make it seem more difficult than it is. That's what Abe says, anyway. I heard him, and he doesn't lie.

Paternity test. How else can I explain why Elle and Abe chose today to do it. I mean, it makes total sense. I must be a father. There were some wild times before I was adopted. Trysts and all. Back alley you-know-whats, know what I'm saying? Fatherhood. It's my destiny. Procreation. Dad. You might remember that I lost my "Dad" not too long ago, so there's something to be said for continuing the line. Wouldn't you want my progeny? Seriously. I've been called the best dog ever, and not just by Abe and Elle. Everyone compliments me on my coat and my stellar athleticism.  Always saying I'm well behaved.

Does this box look a little over the top?

Oh, wait a minute. Pearl has brought me the box. It's a DNA test to determine what breed I am and not a paternity test. Is that really necessary? I mean, come on. You know I'm totally awesome. Why ruin it by finding out that I'm like part Poodle or something. My God, could you imagine if I was? Hehe! Boy, would Abe and Elle be really disappointed. Quick, Pearl, let's find a Poodle on our next walk and really mess with their heads.

This looks complicated.

Seriously, though, I thought we already went through all this last year when they were fielding questions left and right over what I am.

WTH?

Is doing this a second time completely necessary?

Well, they've scraped my cheek. It wasn't as bad as I thought. I mean, all I did was stand there. I just wish they were more quick about it.

In a way, though, I guess there's a plus to this. They'll stop badgering me about what I am. But, there is some part of me, maybe a small one, that wonders maybe I am a father. I just wish I'd known mine longer. Sigh.

Agility continued.

Well, Abe returned in the end. Sorry I left you hanging there, but he came back and left the next week again. Pearl mentioned she heard Abe and Elle talking about "conferences." I gather they meant jabbering, which as we all know Abe loves to do. So, there you have it. All solved.

While Abe was away, I've been getting really good with this agility thing. Elle has been taking me to "sub-basic par excelled agility training" or something like that.  I seriously don't know what its called because, honestly, it's too complicated. Stringing three words together in a title is all I can handle. What do you want from me? I'm a dog.

Anyway, here's me in action:

Me listening intently to the instructor.*

Hoop, there it is.*

And you want me to go down this?*

Airborne, aww yeah!*

Seriously, this is old hat, but Elle seems to think I need the practice lest I forget I knocked over the steeple last summer. Really, can't we just move on from that embarrassing episode already?

Yes, I know, I knocked over the stupid thing.

Oh great. Pearl posted this pic. Thanks. Yes, laugh it up. As you can tell, I've gained some skill since then. Aww, well. I guess I'll let Elle "train" me to jump. Seriously, isn't that like an innate skill?  Everyone can jump, right?

Oops. Pearl just gave me a look.

*Photos (save the last) are courtesy of Meghan Ashlee Photography.