A Doghouse Of One’s Own

Call me Ishmael. At least, that’s what my master calls me. He found the name in a book somewhere; he’s always reading books, never has much time for me, other than to throw me a mostly-eaten leg of mutton or some scraps from the table. What kind of name is that for a dog? I’m a pedigree English Sheepdog, (though plagued with a lean and hungry look)! I have papers, dammit! He could have called me Spot, it would have been more appropriate.

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