By Anna Von Reitz
Suppose I am a guy from Boston and I bought a pedigreed Boston Bull Terrier whose breeder named him Rex Maximillian Holiday the Third.
I bought him fair and square, have the Bill of Sale, the Paid in Full Receipt, the puppy photo, the pedigree, the whole nine yards and then some — and I decide to call him "Rexie Boy" or "Rexie" for short.
I am a cheap bastard and a free-thinking American sod so I decide not to REGISTER Rex with the American Kennel Club even though I could. I decide an old-fashioned ID tag on his collar should be good enough and I get him recorded as a patient with a well-established veterinarian service.
All is right with the world, until my live-in girlfriend, a redhead called "Kate" and nicknamed "Kate Hammerfist" turns into a Vegan and decides that Rexie Boy looks more like a "Midgie". So she calls Rexie by the name "Midgie" and is stubborn about it.
Now, we are not married and there's no contracts involved, she has just been living under my roof for free for the last several years, and occasionally feeding me breakfast —-and annoying me by calling my dog "Midgie".
One dismal day in the fall she tells me her Vegan Chef friend, Alphonso, has asked her to marry him and move to Spain.
Well, what's a fellow to do?
I wasn't motivated enough to marry her or anyone else the last several years. I thought a live-in girlfriend and a dog and two goldfish named "Gums" and "Bubba" were expense and trouble enough.
So I wished her and Alphonso all the best luck in the world and asked what I could do to help?
Pity me! I woke up an hour later on the kitchen floor, cold conked by a vicious left to the jaw and right to the solar plexus. Yes, I could have died. That's where the "Hammerfist" nickname comes in, but it gets worse.
She has flown off the handle and out the window, probably on a broomstick, and to make it all worse, she has taken my dog!
Long story short, she has possession and he answers equally to "Rexie Boy" and "Midgie".
Now we are in a legal wrangle and the question is— does her intellectual property interest in the name "Midgie" applied to my dog and her possession of my dog by theft amount to a valid claim of ownership?
And the answer is — no.
Calling someone else's dog by a different name, say, Alphonso, doesn't create a new property interest. All it does is create a new dog name, not a new dog.
She can have all property rights to the dog name "Midgie" as far as I am concerned. She can call a dozen dogs "Midgie" if she wants to, but calling my dog by her favorite dog name does not magically make my dog her dog.
As for possession, theft by pirates does not change ownership. That's the law and has been the law since pirates were invented.
I drag out my Bill of Sale from the Breeder and the pedigree and puppy photo and ownership record (with my name on it as "Owner") from Barns Veterinary Service, and you would think that would be enough, wouldn't you?
Kate says, "Possession is nine-tenths of the law!"
And I shout, "Among Barbary pirates!"
The Judge says, "Mr. Kate, please keep your voice down."
I am momentarily too stunned by being called, "Mr. Kate" to say or think anything.
"Why couldn't you just marry me!" Kate sobs in front of God and everyone. "Then I wouldn't have to leave my home and move to Spain where I don't know anyone! Midgie is my only friend! My only companion!"
"What about Alphonso?" I jerk back awake out of my "Mr. Kate" bad dream. "All Mi— bah! All Rexie can do that Alphonso can't do, is pee on your leg in public."
"Mr. Kate!" The Judge roars. "That is quite graphic enough! The Court is offended."
"So," I reply in an even tone, "give me my dog and I will go away and not offend anyone."
This falls into a pit of silence — except for Kate Hammerfist's moaning and weeping on a chair somewhere left center in the room. I close my eyes so I can't see her draped around Rexie like a rumpled silk scarf, and can't see his beady eyes silently pleading for help.
"Mr. Kate," the Judge resumes,"you are correct. Renaming a dog or any inheritable property does not —in itself—-create a new property interest in it. You do have the provenance of the dog, vested in a pedigree. You have identified the Breeder and the Veterinarian has identified you as the owner of Rexie Boy....and you do have a Bill of Sale for a puppy with extremely similar markings.... it appears the dog is yours."
Oh, no doubt. And "Midgie" doesn't really exist, it's just a dog name looking for an unwary dog it can latch onto.
My thumb is shoved into my cheekbone. My middle finger is stabbed into my forehead. I can hardly believe that facts have any meaning—"provenance", "Bill of Sale", Vet records, photos.
"Oh, all right, dammit," I hear my own voice coming from a great distance, "I'll marry you."
The Judge sucks in his breath. Kate Hammerfist winds down the tears to quiet sniffing and looks at me, clearly not believing her good luck. Rexie jumps off her lap. Bedlam ensues. Alphonso slinks out the backdoor of the courtroom shaking his head.
Here is my law lesson for you:
There's things and there's names for things and there's descriptions of things and labels for things but they aren't things. Names, labels, and descriptions may be intellectual property if they are copyrighted or patented or trademarked, but they are not physical property.
Remember this separation between fact— that warm little bundle of love biting your thumb, that's fact, that is "substantive"— and fiction, which includes the names, labels, and descriptions we make up out of thin air or adopt because it sounds good.
How about a Boston Bull Terrier called Alphonso? Alf for short?
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