My Name is.. Morgan?

Hello. My name is Tyson. That’s to say, I’m fairly sure my name was Tyson when I woke up this morning. And then.. Everything changed.

Today would have been the 330th day of my incarceration1 at Blackberry Farm. I’d almost given up on finding a forever home. Until.. The new humans came to visit me. And then.. They came to see me again. And then.. They took me home with them.

And now.. They keep calling me Morgan. I’m fairly sure that’s not my name. At least, I’m fairly sure it wasn’t this morning. Perhaps they’ve adopted the wrong dog? I think that’s highly doubtful given my devilishly handsome looks and abundant joie de vivre2. No, there must be some other reason. Perhaps they’re both mentally retarded? The tall, man-human certainly doesn’t look the full ticket3.

They’re probably getting me confused with Morgan Freeman, the actor. But never mind, I’ll go with the flow for the time being. I’ve got a new home. A new bed. A new garden. New humans4.

And.. A new name to go with a new start.

Getting used to a new name will probably take some time. Well, that’ll be my excuse for completely ignoring the humans when there’s something more interesting to sniff, or chew.

Apparently, I’m still a good boy. It’s good to see that some things don’t change.


  1. How else would you describe living in close proximity to cats? 
  2. Which, by all accounts, literally translates to joy of treats
  3. I’ll probably need to hide my treats from him. And his slippers. 
  4. Who’ll require breaking in. 
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