His name was Clarence and he came with a sibling called Conan. Their names did not match their personalities. Conan was timid. Clarence--who soon came to be known as "Clance"--was the bold swashbuckler. Our daughter adopted the pair when she was living in a rowhouse on Baltimore's Federal Hill. One day the intrepid Clarence ran away. He swaggered back a few days later with an oil spot on his head and an attitude: "Don't even bother to ask where I've been and what I've been doing."