Evan's Town?

Way back when, prolly when I was like first "adopted," (honestly, who adopted whom?), I was called "Evan."

See. Look how sad I was. I mean, who chooses the name Evan, right? I mean, there are no famous people named Evan. Really? None? I dare you to check.

Click here.

OK, OK, there's an Olympian. Which is pretty cool, I'll give you that. Then there's some girl. Who gives a boy a girl's name? Or a girl a boy's name? It's just weird. Call me Sue, why don't you, and see the weird looks you'll get. Just go ahead.

Well anyway, Evan I was called although I've always seen myself as a Jackaroo kinda guy. It's in the blog's title after all.

Now here's where it gets interesting. Everywhere I go now, I see signs with my "old" name on it. Nothing says "Jackarooville" or "Welcome to the City of Jack, Population: Awesome."

What's this Evan's Town thing?

Wait a minute. Pearl says it's Evanston.

http://cityofevanston.org/

We moved? Is that what that long car ride to the park was all about? I recognize we've been in this new place with the scary elevator and stairs made of metal for a couple of weeks, but damn, I thought this was kind of a temporary situation. We're not going back? But the yard. My friends, and my squirrel enemies?

I'm OK.

Plus, there is wood on the ground in this place. I know I mentioned it before, but it's worth repeating... Why would they put wood on the ground? Don't they realize a dog probably peed on that before it got installed.

Anyway... Evanston seems to be OK. I've met some dogs, but nothing like my buds back home. I mean... ex-home. Sniffle. Oh, I was just smelling Pearl's butt. I'm not sad or emotional or anything.

Well, at least I've got some sun!