Okay, so this totally has nothing to do with miniatures at all. But one of the comments reminded me of my childhood. My grandmother was a wonderful woman but--like me--she had problems coming up with people's (and things') names. So she'd call me, and I wouldn't realize she was calling me, because she'd call me one name after another--Eddie (my grandfather), Charlie (my cousin), Lachie (my great aunt).
And when she was really, really aggravated she'd yell "REGGIE!!!"
Reggie was my dog.
Like most terriers, he had a very well-developed sense of propriety. After my parents took over my grandparent's house (we were all still living together so this was a formality), my dad decided that it was time to remove the sticker on the stove. You know, the price sticker. That had been there since 1945.
Well, Reggie trotted into the kitchen, saw the discolored spot where the sticker used to be, and started barking. And barking. My dad put him out of the kitchen and shut the door, but Reggie hurled himself against it so hard that we were worried he'd hurt himself. So we let him back in...and he went right back to the stove, positioned himself in front of it, and started to bark. Finally, my dad took us to the movies.
He couldn't stand it anymore.
When we came back, there was poor Reggie, barking at the sticker. Only, having long since lost his voice, his barks came out more like gasps. My dad, resigned and defeated, fished the sticker out of the trash and put it back onto the stove. Reggie wagged his little stump of a tail and trotted off.