WHEN I was a teenager my father decided to purchase a greyhound pup. It was our first foray into owning a racing animal and we duly trekked out to western Sydney and bought a six-weeks old black dog by Milimsimbi out of Spring Rev. I was given the task of naming him after he’d broken in, with a good report I might add.
I had just finished reading Joseph Heller’s funny anti-war novel Catch 22, so decided to name our future racetrack star after the hero of the book, Yossarian.
Sadly, a few weeks later the breakers rang to announce that Yossarian Read full article
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